


Sworn Duties

by Plajus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Awesome Sword Battles, Blood, F/F, F/M, Future nsfw, Knight Dave, M/M, Medievalstuck, Power Dynamics, Prince John - Freeform, Romance, Sexual Content, Torture, Violence, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:04:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2170359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plajus/pseuds/Plajus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a valiant knight for his best friend the prince, Dave is a rogue on the run after he was framed for his brother's murder. A few years later, assassins are after the prince and Dave is called back since he's the most skilled swordsmen in the land. If he escorts John to a safe house without harm, his criminal charges will be dropped. But a lot of hate has showed up between the two boys during their years apart, making their trip a lot harder than it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prince Jonathan, they called him. He is the kingdom’s prince. The land’s prince. And most importantly, was your prince. 

You don’t remember who took care of you when you were an infant, but you were on the streets by five. For a tiny human, you kicked ass, and you were street smart. You knew how to get into people’s minds, how to manipulate, how to put your fists up and pick the right fights. It’s how you stayed alive. You suppose those virtues were noticed when an older man with sunset eyes saw you sitting by a fence post, chewing at the remains of an apple you had stolen. 

He knelt before you, and your eyes immediately widened. You were five, of course you were a little scared. Tons of the people in the village have beaten you, not only for stealing, but because they thought you were some demonic offspring because of your eyes. Hell, some guy tried to do an exorcism on you once. 

The man in front of you was important though. Someone tall and strong, someone with rich clothing and a fancy sword, someone who could easily beat you to death and not get in trouble for it. He wore two family crests on the chest of his tunic. Most likely his own, and the crest of the royal family’s. Great. The guy probably caught you stealing. You were in for it now. 

“That was pretty smart,” he said. 

You just stared. Waiting to fucking die. 

“When you took the apple from the cart,” he said. “Real smart thinking. How old are you?”

You know you were five now, but at the time you couldn’t count days and months and years. You had no education. So you had shrugged in response. 

The castle knight asked instead, “What’s your name?”

“David.” That you could answer. Your name was the only thing that still truly belonged to you. 

He held his gloved hand out. “Come with me.” 

So you held his hand, and he took you to the place that became your home. 

 

That’s when John became your best friend. 

Dirk took you in as a younger brother, loving your survival skills, and you got a home in the castle with him. He was one of the head knights, and he taught you everything. You started training with others at a very young age, all of the other students standing much taller than you. But you fought well, and you proved yourself, and Dirk gave you approving smiles that made your chest swell with pride. 

You met John when you got lost in the castle and stumbled into the main nursery where he and his sister Jaden were taken care of. He was playing with toy blocks, and you were a stupid kid, so you asked to play, and he just grinned. 

When the caretaker came back, she was one of those nuts who thought you were Satan’s helper, and slapped you across the face while screaming at you to get out. John had yelled, and baby Jade was crying in her cradle. Then Dirk found you and picked you up before you could be harmed again, and you didn’t see John again for a long time. 

 

You grew older and smarter. You didn’t see the prince very much, but when you did, you both would stop for conversations. He took you out to the woods once and showed you how to track animals for hunting. You took him to the stables and got some tree branches and you showed him how to spar. 

After that, you both realized how much you two got along. John came down to your quarters of the castle and sometimes had lunch or dinner with all the knights. As you grew more skilled, you began getting jobs of accompanying John around the castle as a low class bodyguard, which gave you both time to talk and grow closer. When you were thirteen, you showed him the route to the castle rooftop, and you both spent nights up there when you couldn’t hang out during the day.

You went on trips with Dirk, but you also went on trips with John. You both went for trail rides, and you started helping him train in combat once he was old enough. You became a full knight young, at sixteen, and it was John that tapped your shoulders with the sword tip as you knelt before him, and it was you who laid a hand over your heart and swore to protect him. It was you who kissed his hand and swore your allegiance to him. 

On your seventeenth birthday, you told no one. But Dirk remembered, and he let you have the day off, and also snuck you extra apples for breakfast because you couldn’t get enough of that shit. John had to deal with “princely duties.” So you spent the day alone, and you helped train others in the courtyard fields and followed your brother around. You wanted to be just like him one day. 

When the sun set, you went to the tallest of the castle’s rooftops. There were guards below, but you were on the very tip, perched on the slanted shingles and watching the country around you settle down for the night. 

When it grew dark, John found you up there, climbing carefully. You grabbed his wrist and he held yours, a mutual trust as you helped drag him up to sit beside you. He sighed contently, holding his knees to his chest and staring out at the stars. 

“Happy Birthday,” he said. 

“You remembered?”

“I’ve remembered every birthday you’ve had since you first turned six.” 

“It’s not my real birthday,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know my real birthday.”

“Nothing wrong with sharing it with your brother. You’re kind of like the reincarnation of him. But… still you.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” You shot a tiny smirk at him, just one side of your lips upturned. 

He looked at you for a while, a soft smile on his own lips, an amused twinkle in his eyes. Then he shook his head, some of his messy black bangs falling over his eyes. “No. I like you the way you are,” he replied. 

“Not many do,” you said, looking back out at the stars again. 

“They just don’t have any time to get to know you.” 

“Well, you’re the prince. And you do have time for me?”

“I make time for you. It’s worth it.” 

You didn’t reply.

“And it’s your fault for closing yourself off from everyone anyway.”

“Knights are supposed to be isolated and independent. Their priority is only family.”

“I’m family?”

“You’re the family I serve for.” 

He made some type of hum, to let you know he heard. He leaned back, gazing at the bright stars. You glanced at him, at his tanned face, his bright eyes, his carefree expression. You always seemed to have a colder temperature than him, so you could easily tell he was touching your hand from that constant heat he held. You looked down at his hand. A few of his fingers resting over yours. Casually. 

You like that. 

 

The next morning, you woke up with a splitting headache. 

The next morning, everything went to hell. 

Your older brother was on the floor of your shared room. YOUR sword was in HIS chest. The blood covered you both. But it wasn’t yours. Just his. He was holding your ankle. He was dead, but his fingers were still tense around your ankle. 

The handmaid found you first. She screamed. Guards came in, and you were hyperventilating, and someone yelled that you had killed Dirk. You tried to tell them no, that you had no idea what happened, but arms were on you, trying to drag you off. 

It’s been a long time. It’s a blur. But you remember leaving your sword in your dead brother’s chest and grabbing Dirk’s sword that hung on the bedpost. And then you leapt out the window. You sprained your foot on your rolling fall, and the screams of guards followed behind you. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you. You were framed. You loved him. You didn’t do it. 

You scaled the wall that surrounded the castle. Perched on the top while guards came after you, you looked back, and from the balcony you knew so well you saw John standing there and watching you. But he just watched. That’s all. So you ran. 

 

You wake up calmly, although you’re on fire inside. Your dreams of the past are usually like that. But it’s been four years since that. You try not to dwell on that old stuff. It’s pointless. 

You sit up and pull on your leather boots, adding your belt and sword, tucking your dagger into the sheath attached to your right boot. The sun is setting, which is the perfect time for you to be awake. Hide during the sun and exploit during the night. 

Jumping from the hayloft that you decided to use as a bed for the night, you pull your cloak’s hood up over your head to hide yourself in shadows. Your tunic, sleeves and trousers are different arrays of black and gray. The shades disorient human eyes, unable to make a real shape when they see you. You’re just another shadow. 

When you walk through the town at night, you hear murmurs of your name. Some call you a hero for assaulting the bandits who raid through sometimes. Others call you the devil for simply existing and running away from the “crime” you committed. Because you were saved from the streets and wanted your brother’s position yourself. 

You travel the streets and slip into shadows when you pass others. You are but a phantom to the soldiers that keep peace here. A legend of your past and story hangs in the whispers of civilians. You’re a bedtime story. You’re also a threat. “Eat your dinner or the legendary Strider will get you!” mothers snap at their stubborn children. 

They call you the Time God sometimes. You sleep during weird times, and show yourself to other eyes during night or day. Sometimes you’re the Strider Shadow. Sometimes you’re Hell’s Knight. You like them all. But none of them call you Dave. Not like John used to. But you couldn’t care less about that traitor. 

You stand tall on a rooftop, munching on a green apple that you stole out of a cart during your midnight walk. You’re above a small inn, and you can hear the loud laughter of drunk men inside, the giggles of young women as the intoxicated males sneak squeezes at their asses. 

There’s the thunk of a knife into wood beneath you. You peer down, seeing soldiers from the castle leaving a poster pinned to the inn’s wall. Once they’re gone, you jump down, landing easily on your heels. A few boys who were passing whisper one of your many names and take off in fear. You shrug and toss your apple core away, then look up at the poster to check the current news. 

Your name is on it. Mr. David Goddamn Strider. Some child’s sketch of you. And for once, it’s not a wanted poster. You read the words below it, glad your brother educated you along with your training. There’s a proposition from the king to you. And on the bottom a white piece of cloth to represent peace is stabbed to the wall. 

As much as you like your fun names around the kingdom, normal “Dave” was always your favorite. You’d like to be free. You’d like to not be a criminal anymore, to have your innocence proven, to not make money for doing shameful assassination jobs. You want to wash the blood clean from your hands. 

Fine then. You’ll play the king’s stupid game.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh no he's hot"

Most people look at themselves in a mirror. They fix their hair and straighten their clothes and wipe crud from their eyes before going out to face others again. You just kind of look at yourself though. You don’t look at flaws and you don’t look at what you like. You just stare at your body. At your presence. 

You used to look at the good things. You used to grin at how good looking you are and how so many girls would swoon on your arm, and how everyone just gave you what you wanted. Because you’re the prince. And that’s it. That’s the only reason people actually like you. 

Someone knocks on your bedroom door, and you ignore it at first. You just keep looking at yourself. But after a minute, they knock again, so you reply with a soft, “Enter.” 

A servant comes in, but not your usual one. You give them an odd look and the boy quietly explains that he’s filling in. So you shrug and let him move around your room to clean up and fix your bed and pick up dirty clothes for watching. You ignore him like you’re supposed to, but you feel antsy when people you don’t know well are near you. Dad says it’s fine, they’re just servants and they’re doing their job. Maybe you’re just a really weird prince. 

With the servant off cleaning the washroom, you pull off your sleeping clothes and leave them on the floor, moving to look at the more royal outfit that’s spread out on your bed. Tall black boots with black trousers and a blue tunic with the most delicate golden embroidery on it. The Egbert family crest rests on the breast of it. 

You have a special ceremony today. Just a small one with your father, some generals and knights, your sister, and a few other close friends in the castle. It’s supposed to represent the coming of a true heir and man since you’ve recently turned twenty-one. You’re not into the fancy-dancey stuff. You like putting on your less colorful clothes and sneaking out into the busy town. You like listening to villagers play music and play games in the street. You like going on rides in the woods with your horse. You like escaping. 

“Milord?” 

You blink awake from daydreams, glancing at the servant who’s holding your belt. 

“Huh?” 

He says nothing, just moves forward to help you get dressed. You allow him, but it annoys you. You’re a big boy. You can do things yourself. He’s eager to help, so you don’t restrict him, and you stare at yourself in the mirror against as he buckles the jeweled belt around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Hm?” 

You turn around to face him, and you see the gleam of a knife in his hand. Your whole body does this weird twitch, the twitch that’s going to launch you into fight or flight mode. Some type of confidence surges through your muscles, and you’re quick to slam your hand down into his wrist to catch it and bend it backwards. 

He grunts and tries to throw his free fist into your side, but you block it with your free forearm and throw your knee forward at the same time. It connects with his groin, and he’s instantly yelling in pain and falling to his knees. You go down with him though, landing on top, and it’s a struggle for the short dagger now. Pulling and pushing and clawing at each other’s fingers. 

Then you remember to call for help. There should be guards right down the hallway. You’re focused on the sound of their boots as they run to your aid and it’s distraction enough that your attacker flips the fight over, and suddenly he’s on your waist, groaning with effort to try and shove that blade into your exposed neck.

The door busts open and soldiers are grabbing the back of your assaulter’s clothes, dragging him off of you. When he’s gone from your touch, someone else helps you to your feet while you’re still panting from adrenaline and shock. 

“Are you all right, milord?” one of the knights asks. 

You nod. Then you hear a scream that turns into a gurgle. You and the knight look over at the servant in disguise that had attacked you, and your eyes widen to see that he’s just slit his own throat. He’s crumpling to his knees, and he’s still trying to speak aloud and say some type of chant. Then he’s on the floor, twitching and shaking with cut breaths that soon cease. 

There’s a moment of silence. Then you bend over and throw up. 

 

The ceremony is obviously cancelled. You spend the next two days in your room, door guarded with knights, extra soldiers even outside below your balcony so that no one can climb up. If they actually could, that is. Dave is the only one you know who was ever able to scale walls like that. 

You think about him a lot, but yet you don’t. It hurts, and it makes your stomach hurt. It makes you miss him, and then right after that you fill with hatred for him. When you travel the city in disguise, you see wanted posters of him up. Pictures of his face, pictures of him hanged. Someone who used to be your best friend, and someone who was very, very important to you.

But now he’s just a legend for dinner time stories. 

With time, you’re finally let out of your room. You’re very closely guarded as you’re taken to your father’s study where even more guards are outside of the door. Apparently your safety is the key thing here, but is it weird that you’re more worried about the crazy people who would throw themselves in front of a sword blade for you? 

You father looks very tired and worried, sitting at his desk that’s cluttered in papers. Before you can sit down across from him, he stands to give you a close hug, probably glad you’re still alive right now.

“Were you hurt?” he asks. 

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“No wounds?”

“I’m fine. I mean it.” 

He relaxes with that, then goes back to his main seat. You sit across from him now, and you can feel the close presence of guards behind you. You inwardly sigh. The constant protection is getting on your nerves. 

“So are we just going to up the protection now or something?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, the one who attacked you was posing as a simple servant. Who knows how many others there might be in this castle? Disguised as other workers? They want you gone, Jonathan.” 

“Why me?”

“Why do you think?”

Because someone else wants the throne. Because your father is old and because you’re the heir. It’s almost always the reason. 

“Do you know who it is?” you ask in a more depressed voice. 

“No.”

“So what do you suppose we do until people stop trying to put knives in my back?” 

“I’ve called for some help. It’s… risky. But I have no other choice.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I just want you safe, son. It was a very hard decision to make. But I feel like this will be for the best.” 

“Dad, can you stop dancing around the top of the subject ladder here and give me the full details as to what it is you’re referring to? What’s risky? What do you plan on doing to keep me safe?” 

Your dad opens his mouth to speak, but all that you hear is a “Caw!” 

Well, that obviously wasn’t the king. 

You look over his shoulder, out on the balcony instead. There’s a crow perched on the railing, dipping its head up and down and looking you all over with its beady eyes. One of its toes is missing and there’s a small red string tied around its leg. 

Everyone stares at it as if it might just swoop in and kill you all. Instead it just keeps bobbing its head. Almost dancing? Bird dancing. That’s a thing, right? 

Then there’s a crunching sound instead, and everyone’s heads turn to the other side of the room. Even the guards are alarmed, and for a second you think you’re seeing a ghost. Instead, there’s a new man in the room, leaning against the wall. He pauses with all the eyes on him, mid-way through taking a bite out of an apple. Then he just continues eating. 

“You called?” he says. 

You blink. “Dave…?” 

He’s dressed in almost completely black clothes, blotches of gray here and there, and a long black cloak draping over his shoulders. You recognize the black sheath hanging on his hip, covered in orange and red designs. His brother’s sword. He’s a bit messier than you remember him. His blonde hair has dirt in it and doesn’t lay as straight as it used to and stubble sits on his jaw and chin. But his eyes are the same. Bright and red, although tired looking. 

He eventually meets your eyes, and there’s a pause in his mind, not his body. Then he nods his head towards you. “Prince.” 

“What are you doing—”

“Your daddy wants me,” he says. 

You’re still staring at Dave. That’s Dave, your best friend from your past. The only one who has ever been able to call your names and kick your ass while sparring. The one who used to tell you your flaws because everyone else is scared to offend the prince. He was your knight. 

“Look, Jonathan…” your father starts. “He’s a criminal, but there is no one more skilled than him. No one.” 

The crow from the window caws again, then swoops through and into the room. Then it lands on Dave’s shoulder, picks at a few of its feathers, and settles down comfortably. Dave keeps eating his apple with a bored expression, but his gaze is on you. 

“You want this… traitor to protect me?” you suddenly yell, turning to look at your father. 

“Son,” he sighs. He leans close. He keeps his voice low, soft. “Do you think he’d ever hurt you?” 

“He killed his brother!” you shout. 

“Hey now,” Dave speaks up, raising a hand. “Don’t know how many times I have to say this shit, but I didn’t do it. But hey, whatever, keep talking, Your Highness.”

You scowl. “He is NOT protecting me!”

“He’s taking you to a safe house. A villa on the other side of the country. At least until we find out who made this attack on you and put any other future attacks to rest. I know you don’t like him, but I need you safe, son. There is no one more skilled than him.”

“And what if he kills me?!” 

“He won’t.”

“Why the hell not?” 

The king’s pale eyes look at Dave now instead of you. He takes a deep breath, and then he speaks in that leading tone that he uses when he addresses soldiers with serious tasks. “David… if you keep my son safe until his return… your criminal charges will be lifted. You’ll be a free man. All the posters will come down and no soldier will ever touch you.” 

Dave stops eating his apple. The crow on his shoulder tilts its head. 

His voice isn’t like it was when he was your knight. It’s gruffer and lost of life. When he speaks, you feel like you’ve lost something of what he once was to you. 

“For the charges to be lifted or my innocence proven?” 

“Charges,” your father replies. 

He slowly takes another bite from his apple. The crow squawks. He sighs, chewing the fruit slowly and mulling it over. 

“I refuse!” you suddenly blurt out.

“You have no choice, son,” the king says.

“I’m the prince, I damn well have a choice! I’m not going anywhere with a murderer.” 

“You know,” Dave says, speaking through a full mouth of food, “I’ll take your deal. Only because little Egbert is pissed off at me. It’ll be entertaining to listen to him rant and yell at me all day during this travel.” 

“You watch yourself and remember who you’re talking to,” you snap at him.

“If I remember correctly, I’m talking to a traitor,” he immediately spits back at you, venom dripping from that last word. 

You shut your mouth for now. The only sounds are the small movements of the guards behind you and the ruffling of that crow’s feathers as it shifts on Dave’s shoulder.

“The guards here will escort you to a guest bedroom for the night,” your father says, speaking to Dave now. “Horses and supplies will be ready at dawn and you’ll be escorted to them. All right?”

Dave scoffs. “A real bed for the night? I’m your man, Your Highness.” He’s got this weird smirk one, one that doesn’t match his eyes. He taps at the legs of the crow on his shoulder until it climbs on his hand, and he nudges the animal at the air. “Go.” 

Just like that, the bird is gone and out the window. Dave doesn’t bow or even nod his head as he leaves the room. He just tosses his apple core out the window and whistles a tune as he strolls out the door with the guards leading him. 

You face your father when he’s gone, elbows on the desk as you lean forward heavily. You feel sick. You feel so sick. Your father starts some type of apology or something, but you raise your hand to silence him. Then you leave. You want to be alone. But of course, the guards still follow. 

You’re never alone. You’re prince.

 

You can’t sleep that night. You toss and you turn. You stare out the window and wait until the bright moon passes, then disappears on the other side of the window as the world keeps turning. 

You wonder if Dave is sleeping. Apparently he’s hasn’t slept in a real bed for a long time. Has he really been on the streets all these years? You wouldn’t be surprised with the condition he was in when you saw him today. He looked so… different. On the inside and outside.

Bluh, what should you care?! He’s the traitor! 

You get up from bed and pull a thin blanket around your shoulders. After opening the doors to your balcony you step out into the midnight spring air, closing your eyes to breathe it in. The next guard of soldiers are standing at guard below you, making sure you’re not assassinated. The city around the kingdom is still slightly buzzing with the late goers at inns and bars. You can sometimes hear the faint noise of carriages and wagons crunching the street gravel. 

When you open your eyes and soak in the land, your chest swells. Because someday, that’s going to be yours. You’re going to lead it and make the calls. It’s not a game. You’re going to have to be king…

You feel sick again. 

There’s a thunk in front of you and you look down in surprise to see an apple core. Anger courses through your veins as you look up, and sure enough the legendary Hell’s Knight is sitting crouched on the roof’s edge, still chewing on the last bit of his apple. 

“Here to murder me?” you ask. 

“If I were, you’d be dead by now,” Dave says calmly. 

“You should be in your room so that the guards can make sure you don’t go on a killing spree.” 

He says nothing. He just spits a seed out. 

“How did you get into my father’s study earlier?” you ask.

“I climbed in through the ceiling beams while you were all staring at Ari.”

“Ari?”

“The crow. Saved her from being mauled by a dog and now she follows me around.” 

“Odd that we didn’t hear you.”

“Silent Strider they call me. One of the many names.”

“You’re not a Strider,” you growl at him.

You hold his crimson gaze and you’re surprised to see his eyes narrow. He used to be so good at hiding emotions. Especially anger. You’d only see a very rare smile on him. But right now, you’re not exactly sure what his eyes are showing you. Whatever it is, it’s not good. 

“You’re one to speak,” he says, standing up tall, the night air pushing his hair back.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You’re no fit to be a prince.” 

He turns away, and the colors of his clothes and the figure of his body envelope him into darkness. As if he were never there in the first place. 

 

You don’t meet Dave’s eyes in the morning. He’s already outside at the front gates, sitting on the back of a black horse. Not sitting like a rider, but sitting crouched and backwards. That stupid bird of his is just standing perched on the horse’s head. 

Your father hugs you for a long time when you say goodbye. Jade hugs you even tighter, and she kisses your cheek and says she loves you and then smacks your arm and tells you to be safe. She’s such a dear, but at the same time you know not to ever mess with her and take her cutsie attitude for granted. 

You mount your chestnut horse, pulling the hood of your dark blue cloak up and over your head. Dave spins on his heel and spreads his legs, falling into the saddle like a normal rider should sit. He looks cleaner than when you saw him yesterday, probably having had used the washroom that came with his guestroom. He almost looks like the Dave you remember from when you were a kid. 

“Shall we, prince?” he says.

You remember when he used to say my prince. 

You shrug. “Yeah.” 

Dave moves first, exiting through the gates that lead into the city around the kingdom. His crow takes off and disappears, but he doesn’t seem worried. As you follow, you look back at your father and sister that are still watching you go. Worry fills the king’s eyes while love and concern fills the princess’s. 

Then you turn away and go through the weapons on your belt. You always need to be safe. There’s a small hatchet on your right hip, axe on one side, a hammer on the other. There’s a dagger in your boot sheath and common supplies in the leather bag that hangs across your chest. 

You think Dave might start up one of his cocky comments again, some sentence that will annoy you and start up some angry conversation. But he’s silent, so you stay silent too. It’s just going to be a few months. At the most, a year. You pray it’s not a year. 

You think about what he said last night as you stare at the back of his head. That you’re not fit to be prince. You think you’re a good prince. You care about the people and you learn what you’re supposed to. You just don’t think you’re fit to be king. You don’t think it was what you were meant for, and it frightens you to think that the role is going to fall on your head one day. 

You watch the way Dave’s thin build moves with his horse’s gait. The way his shoulders dip back and forth lazily, as if he might just fall on the animal’s back and pass out in sleep. 

Why are you staring at him?

You look down at where your hands are holding the reins. Your right hand moves to lay against your stomach and move up to your chest. Under your cloak, attached to your tunic over your heart is a broach. The Strider family crest that Dave left behind four years ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ari is a lovely lady who helped me think up this plot, so she made a guest appearance as a crow.

When you were younger, John talked a lot. 

A lot. 

But you used to like listening to him, and you used to like talking back and conversing. John used to make you feel like a real friend, and not just his knight. One time, when you were both around fifteen, John got in trouble for pulling a prank on his father while the king was in a very important meeting. While he was getting a scold talking to, one of the generals in the meeting called him some horrible name under his breath that only you heard and you had snapped at him to shut his fucking mouth.

You got in trouble with the head knights for speaking out of turn and had to get five lashes. You didn’t talk to John for two days after that. You didn’t meet his eyes when you followed him into areas where the two of you weren’t alone. Your lash wounds had been hurting and you didn’t want more.

After those two silent days, John snuck into your sleeping area of the castle during the night. When you closed the door behind him, he had immediately hugged you. He told you that his father had told him what happened to you. You were ashamed. Because you were his knight, and you weren’t supposed to fuck up and get hurt like that, even if it was as a punishment. But you let him hold you, and in the darkness he took you to the washroom and quietly cleaned your wounds, even if the care was two days late. 

The first two days you travel with John, neither of you speak much. One night you ask him if he wants seconds for dinner, and the next day he asks if you heard a weird noise but you tell him it was just Ari. Otherwise it’s silence. You think your horses talk more than you two. 

You’ve only passed little villages. Eventually, you reach a decent sized town where you locate an inn to spend the night. Some workers take your horses to the stables, but you make sure to take all your supplies with you. You can’t trust those greedy stablehands to keep their fingers off of your things. 

You and John have to share a room, but you thank the lord for separate beds. You light a few candles in there since the sun is setting and then remove your cloak and clean your dirty face in a bowl of water that’s sitting in there. Ari sits on an open windowsill, cleaning her feathers.

After having your things in order, you pull out an apple from your food supplies and speak to John with a full mouth, “I’m going down to the bar for a beer.” 

He furrows his brows from where he’s sitting on his own bed, turning to look at you. “You’re supposed to protect me, not ditch me for alcohol.” 

You stare at him. Then shrug. You point at Ari. “You have a crow.”

“It’s a crow.”

“She.”

“What?”

“She’s a she. Not an it. And you doubt her abilities. Now you’ve offended her. Nice going, prince.” 

He sighs, obviously annoyed. “She’s just a bird.”

You bite off the stem of your apple and spit it at John’s feet. “And my only friend.” 

He says nothing more, and you can feel his eyes on your back as you leave. There’s loud talking on the first floor, and you resist the urge to hide from everyone. This is a different town, and no one here has probably ever seen you before, therefore you’re not at risk for arrest. 

You wonder if you really should have left John alone up there as you lean on the bar counter and wait until the young girl on the other side isn’t busy. What if someone has been following you and is taking this chance now to murder him? You know he can defend himself, every prince should with training, but he’s obviously not as skilled as any knight or soldier.

The young lady across the bar comes over, and there’s a very flirty smile on her lips. She leans closer, elbows close together so it forcers her corset to make two special areas “pop.” Your eyes stay up though, meeting her gaze. 

“You look new,” she muses. 

“I am,” you say. 

“Yeah? Can I get a name? I’m Alahana.” 

“And I’m a mystery.”

“Mystery, hm?” 

You shrug.

“Fine then, I see how it is. Can I get you anything, doll?”

You get a simple mug of beer, and the beautiful Alahana doesn’t bother you again. You take your time to drink, having nowhere to go. You listen to conversations around you. Someone’s crops aren’t growing well, someone else just had a daughter. Apparently there’s a thief loose in the town. 

You look down at your feet. There’s light streaming out from between the floorboards. You raise a finger, motioning for the barkeep to come over again, and she looks excited that you want her back. 

“You got stuff going on downstairs?” you ask. 

She shrugs. “Depends what kind of stuff you’re interested in.”

“The kind of stuff that might let me bloody my knuckles.” 

She nods her head towards the back of the room. “Keep quiet about it.” 

“Thank you, Alahana,” you say lowly, giving her a wink, and she’s swooning instantly. 

You push your empty mug to her and head around the bar until you find the back door. It’s a lot louder in the basement than it is in the upstairs bar, but that’s because this is where the real party is. There’s beer splashed on the floor, couples making out and groping in corners. There are boys walking around and yelling out bets, people throwing in their money, and two shirtless men in the middle of the room cleaning up the blood on their lips from their wrestling match.

Now here’s a fun way to make money. 

You push through the loud crowd, someone taunting to ask whose brave enough to fight next. There’s an amuse smirk on your lips, and you nod at the leader when his eyes meet yours. 

“We have a challenger!” he announces. “A sketchy man here. Anyone brave enough to face him?” 

Having left your belt and sword upstairs, you peel your tunic off over your head and stand in the middle of the room. No one wants to face you right now, and you crack your knuckles and stretch your arms, waiting. You hear a few girls whistle at you, and you just make another sideways smirk. 

Then there’s another announcement, and you look up at your challenger and—oh damn. He’s big. Not huge, but bigger than you. Are you nervous because of that? Fuck no. You’ve taken bigger guys before. 

Bets are made. You give a friendly nod to your opponent. He’s got a thick beard and beady eyes and a chest that’s hairier than a dog’s coat. 

When the crowd quiets down with bets made, you crack your knuckles a second time and bend your knees. You both meet eyes, an invisible war to see who will make the first move. 

“Are you a demon?” he asks with a grin, most likely referring to your eye color. 

“Whether I am or not, I’m still going to throw you on your fat ass.”

You irk him, and it’s what you want, because he makes the first move and charges to punch that thick fist into a spot in your side. You block with your forearm and make a strike in his chest, jumping back immediately. 

He groans, and you can see him resist the urge to rub the area that you assaulted. You’re bouncing on your heels, ready to leap at any second. The second he’s ready to fight again, that’s when you strike the heel of your hand into his chin, because it’s the moment his reacting senses aren’t completely up yet. This causes him to swing blindly, which allows you to duck the blow and send two more strikes to his ribs before retreating to a safe distance again. 

“You move fast,” he says. “Like a striking snake.”

“Can’t say the same for you.” 

He dives again, and this time you spin on your heel, out of his way, and your arm hooks around his neck. The crowd goes wild as you swing yourself up onto his back and slam your fist into his jaw several times. But you jump off before he can fall backwards and crush you to death.

You’re smirking as he faces you again, both waiting to see who will move. The crowd waits. You glance over his shoulder and see a young woman climbing up the stairs to the main floor, but the thing you notice is your shirt in her hands, and most importantly your coin bag. No way you’re letting her get away with that shit. 

You move to get out, but your opponent won’t have it. You try to yell and say that you give, but he wants to kick your ass now, and he’s got a tight grip around your waist. He plans on throwing you to the floor, and you know it’s going to hurt, and you know you can’t stop him, but just before he does you strike your elbow into his face about three times. Then your back hits the floor and the air leaves your lungs and you’re seeing colors for a few seconds. 

Then you see that he’s about to land on you. Wide-eyed, you roll out of the way and hear his pained groan as he crumples into the hard, dirt floor. There’s a pause, a silence in the whole basement. He’s breathing but not moving. A fair knock out. 

The cheers rise up, and you jump to your feet, snatch your winning money, and then dash through the crowd to find that damn thief who took your clothes and money. Someone grabs your arm and you almost clip them in the face with your fist, but you’re met with two blue orbs staring angrily at you. 

“What the hell are you doing down here?” John snaps. 

You can’t find an answer, because your mind is otherwise occupied. You just shove him away and run up the stairs. You can’t find the culprit in the bar, so you go outside, head moving back and forth to look up and down the street. You see a thin body turn a corner, and you take after her, boots crunching the dirt street. 

When you turn around the same corner, you see her, and she hears you, but before she can take off you tackle her to the ground. You’re not the kind of guy to play nice just because the other person is a female. 

She’s pinned under you, struggling, and you slam a hand over her mouth before she starts screaming. 

“No one enjoys a money thief,” you say, panting from both your earlier fight and your chase just now. 

You rip your coin pouch from her hands, along with your shirt, and then let her go. In the darkness, you see a patch over her right eye, and there’s bandaging down her right arm. She scowls as she shoves you off, but you comply and stand, letting her go. 

“That’s money from the kingdom’s capitol,” she growls at you. “YOU’RE the thief!”

“This money was given to me by the king,” you explain. “For a very ‘important’ mission that I’m on.”

“Bullshit…” She looks enraged, but also pretty hurt. She’s very small, and her hair is a complete mess. 

You sigh. Then you take out a few coins and toss them to her. She lets them fall, just staring at you. You shrug and turn away, leaving. But before you’re out of view, you glance back, and you see her happily picking up the money and taking off. Turning forward, you once again run into the prince. 

“Holy fuck. Can you stop slowing me down?” you say, pushing him aside to continue your way back to the inn. 

He follows you, trying to keep up with your long strides. “I can understand someone as horrible as you ditching your main priority in the same building, but then you take off into the night leaving me alone in a basement full of drunk ruffians?!” 

“That thief stole our travelling money,” you explain, pulling your shirt back over your head. When you glance over at John you catch his eyes moving up from your chest to look you in the eyes instead. You smirk. 

“Doesn’t matter!” he defends, obviously flustered now. 

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

“That’s not the point. You’ll probably do it again. You’re not doing your job.” 

“It doesn’t really matter if I do it or not.” 

“What? Why not?” 

You’re back in the inn, and the conversations are too loud for what you really want to say. John follows you back upstairs to the inn rooms and you close the door behind the two of you, locking it. You still don’t speak though. You want another apple. When you start digging around for one, John slaps your wrist. 

You stare down, not moving after that. Did he really just…?

“What?” you say, voice low. 

He pauses. Then: “What did you mean? Why doesn’t it matter if you don’t protect me or not? Don’t you want your freedom?” 

“You wouldn’t understand,” you sigh heavily. “You’re a fucking pampered prince.” 

“Try me.” 

You face him, being several inches taller. He crosses his arms and waits, and you search his eyes to find any type of secret emotions like you were always able to do with him. He’s afraid of you, but at the same time there’s something left from your past. Something that lets him know that you wouldn’t actually wound him, even if he pissed you off to your last never. 

“Well, prince.” You step closer, towering over him. “Once upon a time, I was saved from the streets and given a family and a home and a very best friend, all of whom I cared very much for. Then one day, I was back on the streets for a crime I did not commit. And if I bring you home safely, the charges against me will be dropped. But my innocence will not be proven. I’ll still be the goddamn knight who killed his brother, and I’ll be hated more because I’ll be able to go out in public without being arrested and hanged. If I fail this mission, and you die, I go back to living on the streets and in the shadows, just as I’ve done these past four years. Long story short, I don’t really give a shit if you’re assassinated or not.” 

He blinks, and now you read sadness in those eyes. You remember a time when you were kids and you once saw John cry. You remember how much it had hurt you to see it, and even with everything you both feel against each other right now, you don’t want to see it again. 

“You don’t care if I die?” he says. 

You don’t reply. He can easily tell that you don’t plan on speaking again, and he runs a hand back through his hair and turns away. “Okay…” 

“Fucking Christ, John!” you snap. “Of course I’d care, damn it!” 

“Then why?”

“Why? Because we were best friends, and you knew me almost better than my own brother. And when I was framed and running away, you fucking watched. You never defended me, never fought to prove my innocence. Never even tried to make sure I was okay. You let me go. Do you really think I’d kill my own fucking brother? He saved me. He raised me. I loved him! And you let me live four years on the street, grieving his death all alone, while you sat fucking safe and oblivious in a castle like I was nothing but another damn servant to you. And that’s why YOU’RE the traitor. Not me.” 

John’s lips are parted, a small version of a shocked open jaw. His eyes are watery, and you almost laugh because he’s still the same sensitive baby he always was.

You lower your voice so that you’re not yelling anymore, because that’s not a great thing for a Strider to do.

“Do you remember when I knelt before you and swore on my honor as a knight to always protect you?” you ask.

He doesn’t move. But he does look away. 

You almost go into a rage again when a sharp “Do you?!” comes out. 

“Yes,” he replies past unmoving lips. 

“You do? Good. Because you didn’t protect me.” 

“That was just a ceremony for—”

“I made those vows to my best friend. Not my prince.” 

He seems to lose any response after that. There’s some awkward staring, to see if the hyped discussion is going any further, but there are no words to be spoken. Fine then. You get that apple you were after since the beginning of this and turn away to sit on the edge of the windowsill and just look at the city that’s falling asleep. 

John cleans up in the washroom and goes to bed right after, anything to avoid talking with you. You drop your apple core on the street below when you’re done with it. You have a weird sleeping pattern. You sleep off and on during the night, and it’s your way of staying alert. You sleep about two hours, then you’re up half an hour. That way you’re not in too deep of a sleep, and you’re able to hear if anyone approaches you during your slumber. 

You recognize the difference of John’s breathing, able to tell when he finally falls asleep. You wonder what he’s thinking about. You wonder if this is how things will always be. Suddenly, no matter how this trip turns out, you’re not looking forward to the shitty future ahead of you. 

Ari shows up later when she’s finished hunting. She lands on your knee and ruffles around until she feels comfy and you slowly stroke a finger down the back of her head. Her missing toe is from when that dog attacked her, and the bright red string you tied around her leg is to let you know it’s her when she’s flying far away. Any other bird would be freaked out, even if saved, but she’s different. And even if she can’t talk back, she’s really the only friend you’ve had since you ran from the castle. 

“Eat well?” you ask. 

She makes a soft squawk, pushing into your finger every time you run it down over the back of her head. You can see blood on her beak, so you know she found some nice road kill. 

“Shit went down while you were gone,” you say. 

No response. She’s a crow. 

“I think I ruined everything.” 

The moon shines on your face, and you sigh. John mumbles in his sleep behind you. Your stomach churns once, but Striders aren’t supposed to be nervous. Then again, maybe you’re not a Strider. You were just taken in and given the name. Maybe John was right. Maybe you’re not worthy. 

“Keep an eye out while I sleep, all right?” 

She only seems to be focused on the massage you’re giving her. With a smirk, you itch her head with one finger and then get off the windowsill to head to bed. It’s a really restless night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? Is that chemistry?

You’re tired and you hate yourself. 

You and Dave don’t reach another town for a while, which means you both have to sleep outside for several days. You don’t want him to rag on you for not being used to this, but you can’t help it. You feel like bugs are on you and you feel like some large animal is going to come and maul you. 

Dave looks so calm though. There’s a fire crackling between you two, one that he started in less than five minutes with ease, and he’s sitting on a turned log. His legs are spread and he’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The light of the fire flickers on his pale face, showing the freckles that spread lightly under his eyes and across his nose. His red eyes look so much more vibrant with the rays of the flames dancing on them. 

Neither of you have spoken since the inn. You don’t know what to say. Should you apologize? Would explaining yourself just make it worse? You don’t like it when he’s mad at you though. You think about when he yelled at you at the inn, and it makes your stomach hurt. 

One of the horses snort, and you flinch. Dave only looks at you, then stares at the fire again and drinks from a water skin. 

You suddenly feel like you just drank a full gallon of water. You feel sick and heavy, and your palms are sweaty. You take in a deep breath and look at Dave, then force yourself to speak. 

“Who do you think did it?” 

Dave looks up, obviously hiding some surprise that you actually spoke. He’s searching you with those vibrant eyes, golden locks falling over them. He clears his throat and takes another drink before setting the skin aside and resting his elbow on his knee again. “Did what?” he speaks tiredly. 

“Killed your brother.”

He shrugs. “You don’t think it was me?”

The heaviness in your chest goes away, but now that sick feeling comes back. You don’t reply. You don’t know what to say. No, you don’t think it was him, but if you say that, you don’t think he’ll believe you since it will sound like you’re changing your mind so quickly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “All I know is that he didn’t have a single chance to defend himself. Not because he’s the famous Strider, but because I seriously don’t know anyone more skilled than him. Ever. So… I don’t know.” 

He sounds so serious about it, but mostly frustrated. Frustrated by everything that’s happened to him, and what happened to his brother. 

“I’m guessing… you did more than just live on the streets these past years?” you say.

He scoffs with a quick raise of his eyebrows. “Yeah. Been searching for clues and tracking people down nonstop. But… I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even care if I’m never a free man. But if I just found the guy who did it and killed him or punished him, anything to bring him to justice… I’d be a happy man.” 

You can see the passion in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Honestly, the only reason you ever thought he did it was because you believed that only a Strider could kill another Strider. You were young and stupid. You put rumors before your true care. 

“You’ll find him,” you say softly. 

His eyes meet yours, and you both hold each other’s gaze for a while. He doesn’t sound so riled up when he asks, “You think so?” 

You nod. 

He shrugs as if it might be true, biting the inside of his cheek as he gazes back at the fire. You’re not so sick anymore. Although silence clings to the air for the rest of the night, it feels just a little bit more comfortable. 

 

There’s a lot of ruckus. The horses are throwing their heads to get free, Dave is yelling at you to wake up, and that bird of his is hopping around and screeching non-stop. You sit up from your sleeping wrap, scratching your head tiredly. The moon is still high in the night, what is going on? 

“Get up!” Dave yells for about the third time now. 

“What…?” 

He kicks dirt over the last glowing embers of the fire, then works on untying the ropes that keep the horses to a tree, suddenly slapping his hand over their flanks. You’re on your feet, too late as they take off into the woods, swallowed by the darkness. 

“What the hell?” you say. 

“People are coming. Bandits. We have to get off the road and hide.” 

You can hear it all right, the sound of hooves clomping down the road that you two are camped beside. You finally comply with the hastiness, shoving some of your supplies into a bag. Dave grabs your arm, trying to drag you into the woods to hide away from the road, but you can’t find the Strider broach you brought with. It’s not on your tunic, and your hand is patting over the grass and gravel, trying frantically to find it. 

“Let’s go,” he hisses.

“Wait!”

“No, they’re coming!” 

You yank your arm from his grip. You still can’t find it, but Dave drags you up by your hair when you won’t go with him. You know he’s only trying to protect you, so you don’t snap at him for the hair pulling, only run beside him as he leads you into the trees. 

You can barely see anything, but you trust where Dave is leading you. He has eyes like a cat. He’s always been able to be almost a part of the darkness. 

There are loud voices from the road. Dave stops you as soon as he hears them, and his back hits a tree, and suddenly he’s got you pressed into his chest. You drop your supplies and feel his arm around your shoulders, hiding you inside his black cloak so that you’re both just as dark as the night, hiding you from the bandits. 

He doesn’t have to shush you. By the way he’s gone motionless, you know it’s time to just disappear and wait. You know the bandits have found what’s left of your little camp, and you can hear the noises as they talk and go through what you left behind. Maybe the broach is in the supplies. Maybe they won’t find it… 

Your heart is beating frantically, your chest pressed up against Dave’s. You’re only a few inches shorter, but his cheek is against your temple, and you can hear his breathing right next to your ear, steady and calm. But your heart keeps on thudding in your rib cage. Because what if it's not bandits? What if they’re part of the assassination plan for you? What if they’ve been following you this whole time and have finally caught up? 

Dave’s heart is slow, though. You don’t know how he does it. He’s barely moving, as if he’s controlled how fast his blood pumps, and his arm is tight around you to keep you hidden in his cloak with him. He feels so warm and strong under your touch, but his build is lean and slim. 

Someone from the bandit group announces that he’s going to check the treeline. You take in a deep breath, but that makes Dave grip you even tighter so that you have to take smaller breaths, probably so that you’re not moving as much. 

You hear the strangers boot’s. Getting closer and closer. They’re right there. They’re right there, and the guy has no idea you two are hiding. He has to be five feet away. You can hear every inhale and exhale he executes. 

You move your head, barely, not making a noise, and you look just over the top of Dave’s cloak around you to see the stranger. He’s tall and very skinny, cheekbones sticking out. His eyes look sunken and his clothes and dirty and ripped. But there’s a glint that the moonlight hits, and you see the Strider crest broach in his hand. 

You need that. 

He still hasn’t seen you. You feel like Dave might have invisibility powers. But you want that broach back. You have no reason as to why, you just do, and it makes you shift, and Dave digs his nails into your arm as a reminder to stay the fuck hidden. 

You want that broach. 

You spin out of Dave’s grip, and you hear him growl in frustration. The bandit doesn’t even have time to scream in surprise before you rip the crest out of his hand. Before the man can scream for help, you see Dave flash by your vision and tackle him to the ground. He’s got his mouth covered, and he’s struggling to get his dagger out, and then you see the bandit struggling to find his own dagger that’s on his belt. 

“D-Dave, don’t kill him.” 

The bandit stabs Dave in his side. You flinch, but you see that the blade doesn’t actually touch him, and Dave’s holding his wrist. Then your protector stabs instead, and his dagger is in the man’s neck. You let out an embarrassing squeak. You can see the blood in the dark, and you can see some of it bubbling past Dave’s fingers that are still over the bandit’s mouth to keep him quiet. But you can hear his groans. The pain as he dies. 

Oh gog… You clutch your stomach. You’re going to puke again. 

Dave cleans his dagger off, tucks it away, and then jumps up and grabs the supplies and your arm. “Come,” he says. 

You follow him numbly. 

 

You don’t find the horses until morning. They’re drinking from a small stream, and they just look a little confused as to why Dave made them run off earlier. Ari is sitting on your horse’s head, cleaning her feathers. That crest is still clutched in your fingers. 

You stare down at the water as Dave puts the saddles back on the horses and starts tying all of your supplies on. You jump when he later lays a hand on your shoulder. “Hey.”

After taking a deep breath, you step away so that his hand falls from you. 

“You all right?”

“Fine,” you deadpan.

“He would have killed us both.”

“You could have knocked him out.” 

He pauses. “I could have,” he says.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I sadly must admit that it’s not in my nature. But I’ll try to withhold myself next time.”

“Next time? So you might be pressured to kill again? You, just, weren’t even phased. You just… killed him. You wiped the blood off like some water had gotten spilt on you and nothing more.” 

He doesn’t speak. He turns away and moves farther away along the creek, leaning down to wash his face. 

“I know,” he finally says.

You look at him. He looks kind of afraid. Of himself? 

“I know,” he continues. “But I’m capable of killing, and it’s horrifying that I’m good at it, and… people used to hire me to do it. It was the only way to stay alive with the minimal money it got me.” He stands up, staring to buckle his belt on with his brother’s sword hanging on his hip. “Am I ashamed? Yes. I don’t like it either. It’s like a storm is settling in the pit in my stomach and having a psycho ballroom dance with uninvited peasants. But given my situation, you can’t honestly be surprised.” 

You can’t reply, but you’re not so angry with him. You meet his eyes, just to show you’re not mad, and you stop crossing your arms over your chest with such fake authority.

“I don’t believe in God,” he says. “But I pray for every life I’ve taken. Just in case.” 

You walk past him, slipping your hands under your cloak to pin the Strider broach on, then climb up on your horse. The chestnut shifts under you, probably excited to get travelling again. 

“Okay,” you reply finally. “We should really make ground today since we lost time searching for the horses.” 

There was no forgiveness in the conversation, but the sense of it lingers, and Dave picks up on it. He nods and climbs up on his own horse, turning the animal so that he’s placed next to you. There’s a mutual gaze between you two for a second before he continues on, Ari taking off into the sky. 

 

You feel sick later that day. Not the nervous kind of sick you’ve been feeling, but legit sick. You’re dizzy in the head, but you stay on top of your horse and try to stay conscious. Shouldn’t be too hard. 

You don’t want to travel anymore. You just want to reach this villa and go back to sleeping in warm beds. To stop being afraid of being killed. Even though you had been angry so long ago at that inn with Dave, you had secretly been terrified when he left you alone in that room. You don’t want him leaving you alone. 

“Prince… prince…”

Wow, your fingers look white. You’re usually so tan…

“John!”

You flinch, looking up at Dave who’s suddenly riding right beside you. He grips your shoulder because you almost fell right off your horse. 

“Huh?”

“Are you all right?” he asks. 

“Tired,” you sigh. 

“We could camp or continue on and reach a town by sunset.” 

“Town.”

He doesn’t reply, so you both keep riding on. You take a short nap while travelling, all while not falling over, and grow colder as time passes. You’re not sure if it’s because it’s getting darker or if it’s because you’re actually getting sick. Definitely not a good thing if it’s the latter. You can’t afford illness. Not now. 

You try your best to act like nothing is wrong when you and Dave reach a small inn. You stumble once on your way into the building, and Dave grabs your arm to catch you, but you brush him aside. You don’t want to slow down your travelling.

In the room, you immediately collapse on the bed and pull the covers over your head as you roll over. You’re freezing. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, and you listen to Dave as he undresses for bed and goes to the washroom to clean up. You listen to him eat one of his many apples and hear some soft squawks as Ari finds her way into the room. 

“Hey. Prince.” 

You groan and push the covers down. “What.” 

Dave is standing over you, pausing before eating his apple again. Instead, he sets it aside on the nightstand and presses a hand to your forehead. You resist the urge to slap the touch away, rather liking the warmth his skin brings. 

“You’re burning up.”

“Really? Because I’m freezing.”

“You should sleep. You look pale.” 

“So do you.”

“I’m always pale, I’m the famous artwork of a white fox in a snowstorm. Now fucking sleep.” 

Instead, you stand up from the bed. Dave doesn’t touch you, but he pressures you to rest again. You push by and go into the washroom. Then you drop to your knees and heave your dinner up and into a bucket that you’re clutching to your chest. 

“Fuck…” you hear Dave mutter under his breath in the doorway. 

He gets you some water, then leaves and checks on you every ten minutes or so. You start to calm down, stomach not twisting as much. After an hour, you puke again though, and it burns your throat. 

The sun is gone, and Dave comes back into the washroom, resting a blanket over your shoulders. He rests a candle on the floor to keep the room lit and holds out a glass of water to you. You drink after a raspy thank you. 

He stays next to you. Neither of you look in each other’s eyes because you don’t want to see if he’s secretly worried and he doesn’t want to see if you’re in more pain than you’re showing. Instead you just clutch your vomit bucket and pray you don’t fall asleep because you’re scared you won’t wake up. You need to fix things with Dave before you die. 

When your sickness gets the better of you, you flop against Dave’s side. You cough and shake in a cold sweat. Dave doesn’t speak, but he pushes back your damp hair from your face and feels your forehead again, hand falling around your shoulders after. 

“Hey, Dave…?” you breathe out. 

“No, shut up. Just go to sleep, prince.”

“But… Dave—”

“Go to sleep.” 

“Dave—”

“Sleep.”

“Dave!” 

He’s silent. 

“Why did you stay in the main kingdom? Why… why didn’t you run away to other towns? To places where people didn’t recognize you? That way… you wouldn’t have to worry about soldiers finding you. And arresting you. Why’d you stay, Dave?” 

He shifts next to you, leaning back against the wall of the washroom. With your stomach not trying to kill you at the moment, you set your bucket aside and shakily lean back next to you, pulling your blanket tighter around you. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I guess I was hoping you’d find me if I stayed.” 

“Oh. Then—”

“Prince. Sleep.”

“I’m not done yet—”

“I don’t care. I’m the boss on this trip, and I’m ordering you to sleep.”

“I’m the heir, though.”

“I don’t care if you are, prince. You need to sleep so that I can leave for a while and get a drink or something.”

“No!”

“What?”

“No. You can’t leave. You have to stay by me and protect me.”

“No one is going to come in here and kill you. Besides, I’ll be right downstairs, and if something goes wrong, Ari will screech her little beady head off. How’s that?”

“No. No, you have to stay. You have to protect me.” 

“Ugh, prince.” 

“No! You are my knight. And as the heir to the throne, I order you to stay and protect me!” 

You cough after, having burned your throat. You hug your legs to your chest, hiding your cold nose between your knees and closing your eyes. Dave’s arm is still around you, and your left side is pressed into his body, and he’s really warm. You’re so tired. You’re spent. You’re done. You’re going to obey and sleep. 

Dave’s lips are against your head, touching your hair. Then you hear him whisper, “As you wish, my lord.” 

You let yourself go limp against him with slumber, knowing your knight will protect you now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesbians to the rescue.

John isn’t very coherent in the morning. 

Inside, you’re worried as fuck. 

You pay the innkeeper and leave, John leaning heavily on your arm. You have to help him up on his horse and you spend five minutes asking him trivia questions to be sure that he’s all there and strong enough to actually ride. 

For about three hours, it’s silence. John rides on, head dipping occasionally, and you watch him more than ninety percent of the time to make sure he’s okay. During the other ten percent you’re looking around to check for bandits and other travelers on the country road. You can trust no one. 

When the sun is overhead, you hear a noise behind you and turn back to see John slumping heavily on his horse. Not just slumping, but sprawled on the neck of the animal, about to fall right off. You quickly jerk the reins in your hand, turning around your own horse and bringing John’s to a halt before parking the two creatures next to each other and gripping John’s arm to lift him up. 

“Prince, we have to keep moving. You can sleep in the afternoon.”

He’s heavy and won’t lift his head. You use some more effort, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him upright.

“John!” you snap. “Get up, now.” 

He’s like a rag doll, and you groan as you pull him up against you, tipping his head up and holding his mouth near your ear. You’re still, listening, one hand on his chest. But he’s breathing, even if he’s still burning up. 

You try splashing some water on his face, but he’s still out of it. Your stomach feels warm with worry as you struggle to loosen his feet from the stirrups and then coax him to move at least a little as you drag him onto your own horse, setting him in front of you. You tie his own horse’s reins to the saddle on your horse, wrap an arm around John’s middle as he lies back limp against your chest, then kick your rides’ sides to continue on.

You need a doctor. Fast. 

 

 

You don’t really find a doctor “fast.” You travel until the sun falls beyond the horizon and John seems to be getting hotter and hotter in your arms. His face is red with heat, but his fingers are white and freezing. Is it because he’s not used to being outside like this so often? Did he eat something poisonous? Is it all the stress? 

He feels thin under your arm. You look down in the darkness that’s taking over the land and see your thumb caressing against his stomach, and you didn’t even realize you were doing it. You just want to soothe him and make him stop hurting. 

“Just a few more days,” you say to him. “Few more days and we’ll reach the villa. Then we get to go back home. You can find a pretty princess and have little love children. How’s that sound? Gotta stay alive, though. Okay?” 

He’s still limp. His head is rested back on your shoulder, some of his face on your neck. You’d focus on the closeness and warmness, but you’re more concerned over the raspy breaths he’s letting out. 

“Come on, John,” you mutter even later when you can’t take the silence. “I promised to protect you, remember? But you gotta make the job just a little easier for me. Hey, I even called you John without yelling at you. There’s an improvement. Upsy daisy, Prince John.” 

You were too much of a dick to him. This is your punishment. 

 

You’re tired and dreary, but you don’t stop. You can’t until you can find help for John. You can’t. 

You cough, feeling the chills creep up on you and drape your cloak around John’s body to keep him warm instead of yourself. You press your nose down against his shoulder when you feel it getting colder than your extremities. The horses are becoming more tired than you, slowing down and occasionally just stopping. 

Keep going. Keep going, for John. You talk aloud to stay awake, reciting poems and lyrics and sonnets softly under your breath with your head still tucked down. 

“… Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove…”

John makes a soft noise, and your eyes open briefly. You glance, seeing something about his mouth moving, trying to form words. Maybe your name? He relaxes again after, caught in the claws of forced sleep. 

You watch him, murmuring, “… If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”

And then there’s a house. You sit up, still supporting John, even if it’s making your arm ache. It’s a small house, half of it in a hill. That’s when you recognize the home, and you’re smacked right in the face with relief as you turn the horses off the road and across the field that leads up to the shelter. You see flickering in the windows, meaning someone has a fire going. 

You’re careful to get off the horse, completely exhausted and dizzy. You almost fall over when you catch John’s body when he falls down after you, going down to one knee until you regain your strength and stand again, the heir’s body limp in your arms. You leave the horses with their supplies for now, stepping heavily to the front door. You can’t knock. But you do yell out, “Rose!”

 

“So now you’re Siamese twins at the hip again?” 

You pull your blanket tighter around you shoulders, looking at Rose who’s sitting across from you. She just grins when you give her a deadpan expression. 

“We barely speak. When we do, it’s just… complicated,” you explain. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be free when we get back and he won’t need me anymore and maybe I can come live out here where I won’t be stoned to death by angry civilians.” 

One time, you did actually leave the main kingdom, and it was right when you escaped the castle in that frantic night. After a few weeks of walking, you found Rose’s little home out here. Rose is sketchy. She’s a seer, and she’s quirky because of it, and that’s why she lives away from the villages nearby. But people come to her sometimes, people that don’t mean harm, and she’s almost like those old stories about witches who live out in the woods with magic powers and stuff. 

She’s kinder than what rumors may lead others to believe. She let you live with her and her partner Kanaya for months until you thought you were healthy and healed enough to go back to the capital. You wanted to wait for John to come save you. Looks like you had to come back here to save him though. 

“I have a feeling John won’t let you get stoned to death,” she says. 

“I’ve never doubted your ‘feelings,’ Rose. But… if he ignored me for four years, what makes you think he’s going to suddenly care about me now when this is all over?” 

She shrugs. “Because you came back.” 

You don’t reply. You look at the crackling fireplace for a while and then examine the small house. There are dream catchers and charms hanging from the ceiling beams. There are shelves full of odd concoctions, weird things in some jars, herbs in others. The house is only one room, their beds just being a heap of blankets in the corner, and your eyes lay on the spot since that’s where John is.

He still hasn’t woken up. He’s lying there in only his trousers, his head in Kanaya’s lap as she pads a cold and wet cloth around his face. You’ve been wanting to ask her for a long time how he’s doing, but Rose just shakes her head at you. You’re not supposed to interrupt Kanaya when she’s doing her work. She’s not a doctor, but she is some type of healer, using spirits and charms, something like that. It’s the best you’re going to get. 

You just want to know if he’s going to make it is all. While thinking this, Rose clears her throat, as if knowing you’re about to speak to Kanaya. You sigh and look at the violet-eyes girl with a sigh. “I only want to know if he’s going to make it.” 

“Do not interrupt her, she is connected with the other side,” Rose scolds. 

You glance at Kanaya again, studying her jade eyes as she stares down at John’s face. She hums, crunching herb leaves in her hand, sprinkling the pieces onto the heir’s chest. You don’t believe in that stuff, but maybe just for tonight, you will. 

“How far is the villa?” you ask to Rose. 

“Another day’s travel.” 

“Probably after John gets better though.”

“No one said he was getting better.”

“So he’s dying?”

“Never said that either.”

“Can you ever just make sense? It’s like I’m talking to an animal, and all you’re doing is making weird squawking noises at me and punching me with hooves and shit.” 

She raises an eyebrow, simply sitting straighter on the cushion she’s on, pulling her ankles in so she’s crisscrossed. There are no chairs in this home either, just cushions. But you like it. It’s cozy, and so is the fire, and you’re a lot less worried about everything now. 

Ari doesn’t like your insulting squawking comment and makes a soft screech at you. She’s up in the ceiling beams, hiding from Rose’s black cat that has been stalking your poor friend since the moment you got here. 

“Dave,” Rose says, just wanting your attention. 

You rub your tired eyes, staring at the floor. You still haven’t slept. You need to make sure John is okay. 

“Dave,” she says again. 

“Hm.”

“Everything will be all right.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know if he’ll make it or not. Or what exactly it is that your future holds. But I do know it’s going to be all right. No matter what. It’ll be all right.” 

Rose is always right, which you kind of hate, so you say nothing. 

“I should warn you, though,” she continues more softly. “I smell death.”

“Smell?”

“I sense different things in different ways. This time I smell death. Not strong, which means it shouldn’t be any time soon. But there will be death.”

“For who?” you ask, losing all strength. 

“I don’t know.” 

There are no more words to be spoken. You’re starting to pass out. Rose forces you to eat and drink some before giving you a pillow, and you start dozing off on the floor right in front of the fire. You know Kanaya will take care of John for you. 

After an hour, you feel delicate fingers brushing hair from your face. It’s much darker in the room, and Rose’s face is hovering over you. 

“He’ll be okay,” she whispers. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out before letting go into sleep completely. 

 

You can tell John is coming to in the morning. His eyes are moving occasionally under his lids, small noises coming from his lips sometimes. Rose and Kanaya are nearby, still asleep and pressed close together under the blankets. You stare at them for a while, the way Rose is so protectively curled around her lover, the way Kanaya’s head is pressed close with care into Rose’s neck. How peaceful they are, how relaxed. You wonder how it feels to have that. 

“Dave…” 

You look down at where John is lying, sitting crisscross beside him. It doesn’t feel forced at all when you let a tiny smile find its way onto your lips. You’ve been wanting to see his eyes open for you for a long time now. 

“Good morning, dumbass,” you greet in a quiet voice. “How you feeling?”

He lets out a weak cough, shifts, then just settles back down and goes back to staring in your eyes. “Where am I?”

“We’re at the house of a seer. She’s a very good friend of mine. I’m pretty sure her partner healed you last night.” 

“Yeah… I’m feeling better. Well, stronger than yesterday.”

“You were hardly awake yesterday.”

“I remember some of it,” he mumbles. Then he makes a tired smile at you. “Thanks for carrying me all the way here.” 

“Horse helped,” you reply with a shrug. 

“Yeah. But… I heard you. And that kept me going.” 

“Heard me?”

“Mm-hmm. I think… you were singing. Or something. I don’t know. But I heard you. It kept me from letting go.” 

You push a hand back through your hair, but your messy bangs just fall down across your forehead again. You press a hand to John’s forehead, glad to feel that he’s not burning up as much anymore. He looks more tan, just a bit of flush in his cheeks. You brush the back of your knuckles down his cheek, noticing that his skin is pretty smooth. 

“What’re you doin’?” he mumbles. 

“Just seeing if you’re still warm.”

“I’m fine. Just hungry.” 

“I’m sure the girls will make something when they wake up. If not, I’m cooking that damned cat of hers.” 

John laughs weakly, and it’s probably one the first casual jokes you’ve cracked with him. He looks so tired, sprawled with those soft pillows under him, and one of his arms is up and over his head to stretch a bit. But he looks content and comfortable, and for some reason you really like seeing him like that. 

“You never liked cats,” he says.

“They’re little demons.”

“My old caretaker thought you were a demon,” he chuckles quietly. 

“Hell, my ass still burns from the spankings she used to give me. Remember when she thought I was trying to eat your soul when we were wrestling?” 

He laughs a little louder this time, smile staying on longer. “Yeah. She got a good talking to from Dirk.” 

“Don’t fuck with a Strider.” 

He nods, but his smile falters. His hands aren’t so white, and you stare at one of them as it rests on your knees. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t a Strider.” 

You shrug lightly. “I’m sorry I called you a whiney little stuck up bitch.” 

“You didn’t call me a whiney little stuck up bitch.”

“Oh. Then remind me not to speak my thoughts aloud.” 

He snorts, that hand on your knee moving to hit you there instead. “Asshole.” 

“I know,” you say, flashing him a smile. 

He calms down, tilting his head. “Haven’t seen you smile like that in years.”

“You haven’t seen me in years.” 

“I regret that.” 

“Do you?” 

He nods. 

His hand isn’t on your knee anymore. But you put yours over his, patting it softly. “Yeah, well, if it means anything, I missed ya.”

“Bullshit. You missed the luxuries.”

You smile again. “You caught me.”

“I knew it. But in all serious, I know that’s not true. The only thing you liked about the castle was the food and the bed. You wanted to be outside all the time. Hauling my ass along on trail rides.” 

“Yeah. But they were fun.” 

“They were.”

“Except that one time you fell off the damn horse.” 

“That tree branch came out of no where!”

You chuckle, trying to get rid of your smile when you see that Rose has woken up. She turns on her back and sits up, Kanaya blinking tiredly and draping an arm around Rose’s middle. 

“Could you two cease your flirting for another hour so that we could possibly get some sleep? Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but we were up late last night taking care of a certain somebody.” 

You wonder why she said flirting, but you feel a warmth under your hand and remember to finally take it off of John’s, squeezing your fingers on your knees instead. 

“Sorry,” John says for you both. “And, uh… thanks. For helping me.” 

Kanaya’s eyes are closed, but she smiles and reaches across Rose to pat John’s arm. “Of course, dear. Now go the hell back to sleep.” 

A ghost of a smile lingers on your lips as Rose rolls back over to cuddle up with the sylph. You and John meet eyes, and there’s a mirror of your smile on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose and Kanaya are some of the sweetest girls you’ve met and you don’t want to leave their home. It’s cozy, and the fire is warm, and you like seeing Dave when he’s not so wound up and worried. He’s relaxed and he’s smiling more, but of course he tries to hide it all the time. 

You don’t want to travel again. You don’t want to be under all the stress of possibly being killed. You know you’ll have to, though. Right this second, Dave is outside saddling the horses up and getting your supplies together. 

Rose is sitting on the floor near you, rolling some dice over and over again. Some fortune telling stuff, you’re not sure. Kanaya is crushing some herbs up to make some medicine for you before you go. They’re both very caring and you feel lucky to have met them. You’re lucky they saved your life. 

Rose licks one of her dice, and you raise an eyebrow. She smirks when she catches your eyes and explains, “Just something that lets me read them a little better.”

“And what are you reading?” 

“I’m attempting to read your future.” 

“Oh? What does it say?”

“Someone else is blocking it.”

“Blocking it? Someone else? What do you mean?”

“I can read a common individual. But you and someone else have too many strong and mixed emotions, which doesn’t allow me to properly read your future. I apologize, but I can give you advice instead.” 

“What kind of advice?” 

She makes a sly smirk, glancing over her shoulder towards the window where you can see Dave putting reins on that black horse of his. You look at Rose again as she leans closer, rolling those dice in her hand. 

“He’s putty in your hands for hair touching,” she says. 

“Hair touching?”

“When he used to live here, he was an angry boy. You can’t blame him. But I’d play with his hair and he was like a kitten within seconds. Just some advice to help you with him. He’s got a hard heart, but it’s soft on the inside. You’ve just got to know how to work your way in.” 

You smile at Rose and she returns it. You really like her. Both she and Kanaya are so motherly, which is something you’re not used to since you don’t remember your own mother. She died after having Jade. 

“Thank him,” Kanaya says. 

You look over at her now. “Thank him?”

“Dave’s been through a lot, but he didn’t go through it for anyone. Therefore, no one can thank him for the suffering he’s experienced. And everything he is doing for you. You should thank him, even if you don’t know what for. I think the appreciation will really open him up.”

“I mean, I will, but… he’s just doing this for his freedom. I think.”

“Well, wouldn’t you?” Kanaya says, lifting her eyes from her work to stare back at you. “I’m sure at first he did it for the freedom, thinking you had betrayed him.”

“But now,” Rose joins in, “I think he feels like you’re more than just a job for freedom.” 

The door opens then, Dave standing tall with his cloak on, an apple in his hand and Ari on his shoulder. Just like when you first saw him again in your father’s study. He pauses from eating, looking around at all of you, then swallows. “I know you were talking about me, and no, I don’t want to know. But we have to get going if we want to reach the villa by tomorrow.” 

You nod and stand up, Rose and Kanaya doing the same so that they can say goodbye and such probably. Rose is quick to pull you into a hug, and you smile and hug her back, smiling. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Anything for you, Prince John.” 

It’s the first time she’s called you prince, and you chuckle a bit, moving to hug Kanaya next. She rubs your back and kissed your cheek before parting and giving you a jar of green-ish liquid. 

“Drink it only tonight before you go to sleep. All of it. You’ll be healthier than you were when you were born by morning.” 

“I will. Thank you so much. For everything, really. I’d be a goner without you.” 

“It was our pleasure, darling.” 

She pets your hair once, and you smile, liking all these motherly gestures they’re giving you. You turn to Dave, seeing that he’s hugging Rose at the moment, and you like the sibling relationship they have. You like seeing Dave show his soft side. 

You let Dave say goodbye to Kanaya too and walk out to the horses, putting the jar in your saddlebag. Dave comes out, Rose and Kanaya standing at the doorstep with their arms around each other. 

“Be safe,” Rose says.

“I’m always safe,” Dave snorts. “That’s why I’m still alive.” He leans down to the girls’ smaller heights, kissing both of their foreheads, and adds on, “You two be safe.”

Rose scoffs. Kanaya just grins. 

Dave approaches you, knowing you’re still a bit weak, and wordlessly helps you up onto your horse, patting your leg once as he moves onto his own. You wave goodbye to the girls as you and Dave leave, watching them share a kiss, and you relax as you turn ahead to face the road before you. 

 

Dave seems tense that night. You don’t find a town so you’re camping out in the woods again. Not next to the road, but farther into the trees, which is probably a good choice considering that last run in with the bandits. 

Instead of staring at him from across the fire, you’re next to him, both of you leaning back against your bags of supplies. Ari is up in a branch over your heads, either being oblivious like the bird she is or actually keeping guard like Dave tries to convince you. You glance at Dave, still loving the way firelight flickers in his red eyes. 

“Thanks,” you say.

He looks over at you. “Hm?”

“For everything. Thank you.” 

He looks a bit surprised, as if he doesn’t know how to take it. He shifts, then rubs the stubble on his chin, letting out a sigh. Then he says, “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” 

He looks tense and nervous. “You okay?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” He raises a hand, pressing it to your forehead. Satisfied, he drops it. “Did you drink that medicine from Kanaya?” 

“Yeah. I feel better already.”

“Good. Good.” 

You watch him wring his hands together. Is he really that worried about you? You feel fine. It was just a horrible fever and flu from the stress. You don’t like him being so worried, so you carefully lift a hand behind him and then rest it on his head. 

He flinches, glancing at you once. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing. Just relax, I’m fine.” 

He says nothing as you press your fingers into his hair and start rubbing against his scalp, playing with his golden locks that have been recently cleaned at Rose and Kanaya’s home. He looks like he’s going to pull away soon, growing annoyed, and you almost stop first. But then there’s content sigh coming from deep in his chest, and his eyes close. 

They were right. If he could, he would probably be purring, just like the kitten Rose called him. You like the feel of his hair, and you keep playing with it, carding your fingers through it and then massaging gently. His neck lolls with lulled feelings, and you almost laugh. 

“Dave, what are you going to do after?” you ask. 

“Hmmm…?” he hums. 

“When we go back eventually. And you’re free. What are you going to do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. He says nothing, having just said a quick answer, but you can tell he’s looking for a real answer. One with more detail and plans. But when he opens his eyes, there’s nothing there, and all he replies more clearly is, “I don’t know…” 

“I’ll help you,” you say. 

“Hm?”

“Whoever killed your brother. When we get back and you’re free, I’ll help you. I’ll help you find him and we’ll bring him to justice and we’ll have your innocence proven. You can come back to the castle.” 

He turns his head and sits straighter, looking right at you. Completely into you, and you haven’t had him look at you like that in years. 

“Yeah?” he breathes out. 

Your hand stops moving, falling down and finding its way to your lap. “Yeah,” you echo. 

He messes with his hair once your hand is gone, as if missing it. Then he says, “What if we don’t find him?” 

“Then you can come back anyway. You’ll be safe back in the castle.” 

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe. Just leave it at that, okay?” 

You stare at him until you’ve soaked in that calm gaze of his. Then you nod. “Okay.” 

 

You reach the villa in the late morning. You’re exhausted and you’re so ready to sleep since Dave had you two moving again before the sun even rose. There are permanent servants and small families that are friends with the Egbert family that live here, but you and your father and Jade don’t really visit much. You’ll say hello to them later or something… 

No one really welcomes you. They can tell you’re tired and a young servant shows you to a room. You undress and clean up in the washroom and then immediately collapse into a warm bed, the curtains closed to block out that cursed sun. You can’t even worry about what Dave is doing right now. His room is down the hall and he’s probably enjoying the relaxation too. 

Before you can sleep, you hear yelling. You recognize one of the voices too. You’re out of bed, pulling a tunic from your clothes on the floor and yanking it on as you head down the hallway. At the end you see your cousin Jane, staying out of Dave’s room and looking at you worriedly. 

You already have a good idea as to what’s happening. You push into the room to see the famous (and loud) Jake English, shouting something that you can’t understand at Dave. Dave isn’t phased. He’s standing quietly, head tilted down but his red gaze on Jake. 

“Jake!” you yell.

The man looks at you a bit alarmed, silenced. 

“Put that down,” you say more quietly.

He looks down at the dagger he’s holding as if he didn’t know it was there. He puts it in its sheath and speaks to you, “You came here with this man?” 

“Yes. He protected me. Leave him be.” 

“You know what he did?” 

“He didn’t do it!” 

Jake and Dirk used to train together back at the castle. They were the best of friends, just like you and Dave used to be. He was almost like an uncle to Dave for a while, and he and Dirk were your personal bodyguards when you were younger, before Dave took the position. Dirk was obviously more skilled and became a knight before Jake, and when Dirk was killed, Jake left and stayed a page to move to the Crocker household and be their personal guard. 

Jake jabs a finger at you, breathing heavily. “You have no proof. You know I’ve dedicated everything to killing this monstrosity that murdered his own brother.” 

“He didn’t do it!” you yell again, almost to screaming. “He loved him as much as you! This is equivalent to me saying that YOU killed Dirk!”

He’s silent for a bit. He swings his head to Dave who is only standing in a subtle defensive stance, but Jake only looks at you again. 

“He protected me,” you say calmly. “He brought me here and he saved me twice now. He didn’t do it. Come on, Jake… Even you should know that. You just hate that you don’t have someone to blame. So you agreed with rumors. You know Dave…” 

He looks at Dave again. Then at you. Then at Dave. Then he shakes his head, exasperated, and just leaves the room, shoving past you. You stare at your feet when he leaves and hear Jane call Jake’s name down the hall, following him. Your face feels warm and your fingers feel cold. You stare at your bare feet longer and wish you and Dave had just stayed at Rose and Kanaya’s home. 

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder and you look up, remembering that Dave is there. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “Wow, I suck. Just… wow. Wow, how did you even, like… put up with me? Fuck.”

“What are you talking about?” he mutters, and his hand is on the side of your neck, and wow you feel warm. 

“Well, he was so angry, he thought you did it. And I… I scolded him for that. But I used to believe you did it. I’m a sickening hypocrite… I-I shouldn’t have, I—”

“Shut up.” 

Your face is in his shoulder and his arms are around you. You stand a bit surprised, but then give in and relax, resting your own arms around him and absorbing all the closeness and warmth that he gives off. You feel his breathy chuckle against your ear and it makes a shiver run down your spine. 

“What’s important is that you know now, okay? I don’t blame you for thinking I did it. It kind of made sense. But you know now.” His hold on you tightens a bit. “And you’re back, and I’m glad.” 

You smile and hug him tighter, and you’re not sure how long you’re allowed to hug him. But it feels nice, so you keep on holding him. He’s protected you all this time and you feel so safe with him. 

At first it’s awkward, wondering how long you should hold him, but the atmosphere dissipates. Then it’s just comfortable. You close your eyes and press your nose into his tunic inhaling his scent and you feel his nose against your hair. You wish you could sleep standing up, right there in his arms. 

“Come, prince,” he eventually mutters, pushing on your shoulders to part your bodies. “You should rest, you’re still under the weather. I’ll guard you in your room.” 

“Dave, you can sleep. We’re safe here.”

“There is no place safe for you unless I’m there with you.” 

You look up in his eyes, lying a hand over his that’s on your shoulder. He sighs, probably thinking about what he said, and leads you back to your own room silently. He closes the curtains a bit more so that the room is darker and acts like some servant, assisting you to undress. You lift your arms up, letting him peel your tunic off and let it lay over his arm. 

“I’ll be keeping watch,” he says. 

You turn to get into bed, but Dave’s hand catches your jaw, turning you back, and he presses a brief kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well.” 

You stare at his chest until he pulls away, wishing you could just grab him and yank him back in. Instead, you raise your eyes to meet his and smile with a small nod. 

When you’re in bed, dozing off, you stare at Dave through half-lidded eyes so that he thinks you’re sleeping. He’s sitting against the wall, Ari on the floor in front of him, and he’s tossing tiny pieces of food for her. He starts muttering under his breath, voice slowly growing, and you hear poetry flowing from his lips. It’s different than his usual voice, as if something soft has taken over. 

You completely close your eyes, letting the sonnet about love overtake you, and you think it follows you into your dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rapping, only poetry.

The villa life is a little awkward as several weeks drift on by. You follow John around like you used to when you were a knight at the castle. You move to a room with two beds so that you can always keep an eye on him when he sleeps, and you thought he would get annoyed by it. But he seems calmer when you’re close. 

Jake doesn’t shove another weapon in your face, but he does give you a lot of glares and makes sure to avoid you as much as he can. Jane’s the only one who seems happy with your presence. She smiles at you and talks with you. She and John cook together sometimes and you stand in the back quietly, trying to make yourself invisible, but they always end up remembering that you’re there and forcing you to either help or making you the official taste tester of the kitchen. 

One morning John sleeps in and you leave Ari with him to go down to the kitchen and get some food. Jane is already there, stirring something in a pot and smiling happily at you when you enter. “Good morning, David!” 

“Hello, Jane. What have you got cooking today?” 

“Some old fashioned pancakes topped with sugared strawberries and sauce,” she happily proclaims. 

“You’ll have to save me a plate and make something for me to bring up to John.” 

“Yes, he was up late last night, wasn’t he?”

“He insists on keeping up his studies, even away from home. He’s got enough stress with these idiots trailing him, yet he wants to keep reading.” 

Jane turns to face you, smoothing her hands down her apron. “He’s always been like that.” 

“Yes, he has, but he’s never really enjoyed it.” 

“I don’t think he wants to be king,” she says. 

“What makes you say that?”

“You can’t see it in his eyes? It scares him. You and I both know he’s a free spirit who likes to escape. He’s young, and he’s supposed to run an entire country one day.”

You’ve never really thought about it. You lean back against one of the counters as Jane gets to work on starting the firewood stove. You of course knew he always had stress, but you always thought he was ready to follow in his father’s footsteps. It was tradition, and everyone before him has always done it. You never considered that John might not want to be like everyone else. 

“But he seems to enjoy having you around,” Jane continues. She leans against the counter near you, pushing some spectacles up her nose so that she can read a recipe before her. “We were talking the other night about how he’s going to help you find your brother’s killer.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm. If you ask me, you should question Jake on it, seeing as he’s done some investigations of his own.”

“Jake wants to kill me,” you scoff.

“The way to Jake English’s heart is a good quarrel,” she says with a happy smirk. “Egg him on and get your fists up. After, I’m sure he’ll share just about anything with you! Besides, you both have the same goal, no? To find Dirk’s killer? Enemies of the same enemy make friends.” 

 

You find Jake outside by the front gates of the villa. He seems quite annoyed when he catches you approaching, and you make John stay back as you continue on. You won’t allow yourself to be more than a few rooms away from John ever, so of course you forced him to come out here with you. 

Jake’s hand lies on his dagger sheath as he turns to face you, standing a bit taller. “What do you want?” 

“Jane tells me you put up a good fight,” you say. 

“I do. Nothing compared to Dirk, but I guess we’ll never see that again, hm?” 

That sends a pang through your heart, but you keep facing him. “What do you know about his death?” 

“Nothing you need to know.” 

He turns away. Mustering up some balls, you step forward and shove his shoulder. “Tell me what you know.” 

He turns to face you, and you can tell how badly he wants to shove a blade in your chest. You hold your sword hilt and slowly pull it from its sheath, putting a sly smile on your face. “Come now, English. Or you’ll always be lower than a Strider.” 

He stares at the hilt of our sword, and he knows it used to belong to Dirk. But he pulls his own weapon free and faces you quietly. 

“Please don’t kill each other!” John calls. 

Surprisingly, Jake makes a tiny smirk at you. Then you jump forward and strike at him, Jake barely moving to block and shoving forward, forcing you back. The beginning of the fight is more like fencing, the tips of your swords clanging back and forth until you make a good parry and drive him back. There’s a loud sting of metal then and Jake throws the blade to practically take out your arm. 

But you can take anything, so you block it with ease, even if it sends a dull ache through your wrist. Jake is probably the only good match for a Strider, seeing as how Dirk used to sometimes train him himself, and therefore he knows a lot of the secret Strider tricks. 

At one point he has your back to the villa gates, metal digging into your spine. The blades just above your sword hilts are clashed together, each trying to shove the other back with all the strength they can. Jake is looking you straight in the eyes, emerald with hate. 

“I didn’t do it,” you manage to force out. 

He just yells and jumps away, slashing his blade at you again, and you’re very quick to block the angry attack. You’re just pissed he won’t believe you, or that he’s in complete denial. It’s hard enough having everyone hate you for something you didn’t do, and even your brother’s best friend won’t come to your aid. Someone who used to even help take care of you. 

And this pisses you off beyond belief, causing you to throw attack after attack of sword barrages at Jake. He’s taken aback by your sudden ferocity. You parry him well at one point and spin, smacking the side of your sword into the back of his knee instead of the sharp blade itself. He trips onto his back, hilt falling from his hand, and the tip of your blade touching his neck. 

Panting, you resist the urge to put a foot on his chest as if he were hunting kill, and demand quietly, “Tell me what you know.” 

You put your sword away. You see that John is standing nervously, as if you might have actually killed him, but you only hold your hand out. Jake stares at you for a while, but then takes your hand and you pull him to his feet again. He retrieves his own sword to put it away, then actually claps you on the shoulder, though not smiling. 

“Walk with me,” he says. 

 

Jake believes it was all one plan. To start killing lower ranks to reach the higher ones. To kill the head knight first, frame you, then come back later and take the prince. You asked him what good killing the prince would do, and Jake says it could only be for two reasons. One, they’re going to frame another person to send the kingdom into chaos. Or two, they’re close in line for the throne and are eliminated steps in the ladder to get there. 

When counting down who’s in line for the throne, the names don’t seem to be potential killers. That means whoever would want the throne would have quite a bit of bodies to pile up, and that most likely takes away that choice. The first one makes more sense though. If an all out war is created over a royal’s death, it could send the kingdom in turmoil. It could destroy the system the king has created and the land would be without leadership. 

Then, whoever created it in the first place would be the new person to take over and regain order. 

“He’d need an army,” you say. 

Jake is strolling beside you, John on your other side, and you’ve all been discussing this for the past half an hour. Jake is a lot calmer about everything, your own intakes on the situation restoring his trust in you. 

“Yes,” Jake agrees with you. “He would. It’s the only way the killer would create the chaos to throw the kingdom out of balance. And then that’s when he would take over.”

“So he may kill more?” 

“He’ll want to take out the royals. And quickly. To make sure the chaos can’t be healed. Then they’ll probably attack.” 

“Why do you think he hasn’t made a move in four years then? Since he killed Dirk?”

“Perhaps he thought ahead and moved too soon. Now he’s probably got followers, people to help him, and a better laid out plan. Whoever tried to kill John was obviously not well trained. He was just a toy for the real mastermind. His life had no value to his boss.” 

“Then whoever the boss is must be feeding them a load of horseshit to make them believe it’s worth giving up their lives. The one man took his own life because he failed to kill John. That’s some sick dedication.” 

“Nevertheless, it’s a dangerous dedication. And I suggest we all continue to keep him safe until someone is brought to justice on the end of a noose.” 

Before you can reply, you feel a hold on your arm. John has stopped walking, his grip tightening on your elbow. “Can you escort me back to my room? I’m feeling ill.”

Worried, you press a hand to his forehead, but he swats it away and takes a step back. You give him a weird look, but nod, and say a goodbye to Jake, thanking him for his time. He seems calmer with you, and he nods goodbye also with more respect. You rest a hand on John’s back after, leading him up to the villa again.

He’s quiet the entire way. He even ignores the smiles of servants in the house. When you’re safely in his room, he slams the door closed and rests his head against it, letting out a sharp breath. “God, do you know how much that hurt?” he snaps. 

“What?”

“You two, just chatting about how someone is trying to kill me! Like it’s nothing! About the kingdom getting taken over by a fucking lunatic, about me dying. What if they kill my father or Jade? What if they kill the other knights at the castle? Or you? Fuck, do you even care?” 

You tilt your head, stepping closer and wishing he’d meet your gaze. “You know I fucking care, John. That’s just stupid of you to ask, we’ve been over this.” You heave in a large breath, resting your hand on his back once again and lowering your voice to something softer. “I apologize, though… it was rude to talk about such scary circumstances in front of you. But would you have rather not heard that conversation? Would you rather not know all of that valuable information?” 

He sighs, then lifts his head from the door. He lazily turns around, back against the door instead and running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah… It’s just… Dave…” 

You step close in front of him and you touch his cheek, brushing some of his dark locks out of his eyes. “Yeah?”

“It’s just really scary,” he admits. 

“I know,” you whisper. “But I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you. I promise.” 

“I don’t want you hurt.” 

“Well, I don’t want you hurt.” 

He’s silent, staring down at your boots probably. Your fingers are still on his cheek, and you curl them in, brushing your knuckles along his smooth skin as you tilt your head in closer. His breath catches, but he doesn’t pull away. So you go for it, moving in to complete the touch of lips on lips. 

Instead you find his cheek, and your eyes close in both embarrassment and pain. You pull back, John’s face flushed red as he stares at the wall in his stance to avoid that kiss of yours. 

“Maybe… maybe you should… go,” he whispers under his breath.

You gulp and remove your hand from touching him, shoving them down in your pockets again. You were used to feeling happy and content with John, but that aching pain in your chest is returning. You swallow it down and let out a small breath. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

He steps away from the door so that you can open it and leave. No more words are spoken. You just go. 

 

You can’t sleep in your own room. You don’t like it. You stay in the hallway, back against the door to John’s room. Awkward kissing attempt or not, you still have to protect him. Even if your freedom wasn’t promised, you’d still protect him. He’s really your only reason to live anymore, that and achieving revenge for your brother. 

The crickets outside are loud. Ari is out hunting or something, but you’re not worried about her. You don’t exactly take care of Ari. You saved her, and she returns the favor by being good company. She doesn’t rely on your for food or shelter. She just likes being with you. Sometimes you don’t see her for days at a time, but then she’ll suddenly come back and spend weeks with you. 

You lay your head back against John’s door, wondering how you could have fucked up so badly. It’s not like you fell for him during this trip. Okay, yeah, you did, but you liked him before that. It started when you were sixteen, and you stared at him as much as you could. John had no idea what a beautiful person he was, and those eyes of his had you swooning internally all the time. That’s why you stayed after your brother was killed. In hopes to see him again. You wanted to be his knight and protect him forever. 

Back at the castle, you may have perked up when the king offered you freedom. But you planned on taking John to the villa before he said that. You may have acted cold, but inside, you truly wouldn’t let anything harm him. He is your top priority in life. 

You hear some noise inside the room, thinking that John might be shifting in his sleep. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately you’ve noticed. He shifts and kicks a lot and sometimes has small nightmares where he convinces you repeatedly that he’s fine before rolling over and going back to bed. 

Something breaks in John’s room though. Maybe not breaks, but whatever, it’s loud, and fine, you’re worried as hell. You always are. You stand and carefully push the door in, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness for only a second. You see John standing next to his bed, but… that’s a little too small to be John. 

And the next thing you know, you’re staring at a stranger who’s got a pillow shoved down on your heir’s face. 

You’re across the room in less than a second, backhanding the man across the face with all the strength you have. He hits the ground with a very loud thud and you have your sword out and pressed to his chest probably within the same second that you started with.

“What do you work for?” you demand. 

The younger man is panting. He looks skinny and almost deformed, maybe a little crazy in the eyes. He grins like a madman and holds the tip of your sword, and you’re pretty sure he’s slicing his palm open. 

“Who the FUCK do you work for?!” you yell. 

“You’ll find out eventually,” he replies in a raspy tone. “He’ll rule us all!” 

He laughs, loudly and insanely. You’re about to call for help to get someone to retrain this man, but you’re too late as he jumps up towards you—impaling himself right on your sword. 

He meets your eyes as your blade is resting right through his heart. He whispers, calling you a filthy demon, and blood as red as your eyes flows from his chest until he tips backwards and falls off your weapon. You stare at him with wide eyes, and then hear a voice behind you. You turn to see Jake, about to explain yourself, but he shakes his head to show that he saw everything. 

“See to John,” he says, kneeling by the bleeding body on the floor. 

You nod and drop your sword that’s dripping blood and lean onto John’s bed, confused as to why he hasn’t moved yet. He looks like he’s sleeping. You put your ear down by his mouth and listen, and your eyes sting when you feel nothing against your skin. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You whisper it over and over again, your body feeling both numb and in pain. You tip John’s head back and wrap your lips to his, filling his chest with air. Your brother only taught you this once when you were a kid, but fuck it, if it’s close to saving John, you’ll do it.

You watch his chest rise with your breath, so you give him another one. Still nothing after. You scoop him up in your arms, taking him off the bed and lying him on the floor. You yank his sleeping shirt open and put your palms on his chest, trying to force him to breathe. You want to be able to say that you’ve saved his life three times now, not saved him twice and lost on the last try. 

You want his eyes to fucking open already! But they don’t, and you keep forcing his lungs to work, and soon enough you’re connecting lips in a dreadful kiss, breathing worthless life into him that he refuses to respond to. 

“I don’t believe in You,” you whisper under your breath, not caring if Jake hears. You continue compressing John’s chest, muttering, “I think You’re a load of bullshit, but I need him, God. I need him, please, just for once in your goddamn life, give me a shitty miracle and just let me have him, please. I’ve done a pretty fucking good job taking care of him, haven’t I? Least You can do is fucking give me some help right now.” 

God helps. 

John’s eyes open and show you blue orbs, ones that are alive. His mouth opens more, sucking in air, and his hand blindly reaches out to you. You bite your lip and pick up his upper body, cradling him to you as he shakes and struggles to breathe correctly. 

“Shoosh. Shh, John, you’re fine. I’ve got you.” 

Strangled gasps come from his throat for now, and you smooth his hair and just press him to you, wishing you could take him away from everything that’s bad. 

“I’ve got you,” you promise him. 

He closes his lips, letting out a pained breath through his nose. Then his eyes re-open with new strength, breathing a lot easier now. He calms down, but he wraps his arms up and around your neck, so you grip him back just as tightly, anything that will help him calm down and not feel so terrified anymore. You can’t even beginn to imagine how scared he must be. 

You ignore anyone who comes into the room to take care of the body and the blood. You eventually pick John up and sit on the bed with him. You occasionally switch positions, but no matter what, he wants you holding him somehow. He’s so afraid, and you hate that. As the moon travels across the sky, you end up sitting back against the headboard of the bed, John lying between your legs with his head on your chest. He sometimes breathes a little oddly, probably still scared of his ordeal, but this is when he starts drifting off. 

You run your fingers through his hair and whisper softly to him, “O, never say that I was false of heart,

Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.

As easy might I from my self depart

As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie."

John’s eyes fall closed, and you lower your voice even more, continuing the shimmering words until he completely dozes off. 

“O, never say that I was false of heart…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first tongue battle.

You follow Dave to the kitchen. That’s about it. Otherwise you both stay in your room, all the time. You both talk and laugh and play stupid old games. He knows you’re terrified. What happened on that night last week was something you did not want to go through again. 

You had woken up halfway through, realizing you couldn’t breathe well. And although your attacker had been small, he had also been strong. He knelt on your chest, knees on your arms, and your pillow only continued to suffocate you. You might have cried; you try not to think about it. The passing out part was the best. And waking up, realizing you were alive, was the best feeling. Even better, Dave held onto you and saved you, and he made everything okay. 

He tries not to bring it up. You don’t like thinking about it. About how scared you were, and how worthless you feel that you couldn’t stop the man. You hate thinking about how much it hurt to not breathe. You try to make yourself feel better by remembering the sweet relief on Dave’s face when you woke up again.

 

One day, Dave leaves while you’re sleeping. You hate him for it, he knows how scared you are to be alone. You know this because you wake up to an empty room, and you immediately yell for him.

But you’re still alone. You panic and go for the door. You need to find him, you need his protection. You know you’re strong and that you should be able to defend yourself, just like you did the first time you were almost killed, but you like having Dave near you. You need him near you. 

When you fling the door open, Dave is already there, having heard your cries. You instantly clutch onto him.

“Whoa, whoa. Hey, it’s all right. What’s wrong? Did someone come in?”

“Where’d you go?” you mutter against his shoulder.

“I went to get some food, don’t worry. I was gone for no more than five minutes. Just talked to Jake a little, too. I’m here now.”

“Don’t do that!” you scold.

You feel his hand smooth down your hair, and you instantly relax. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I won’t do it again, sire.” 

“Good.” 

“Are you all right now? I need to talk to you about something.” 

You nod and part yourself from him. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“So, apparently there’s this big shot underground worker in the nearby town. She knows just about everything about the secrets of the kingdom. She’s having a ball at her villa in a few days and I want to talk to her and see what she knows about my brother’s death.” 

You think it’s a good idea, but you’re afraid to be near so many people. “I don’t know…”

“I need to know who did it,” he says more quietly. “I need to find his killer.” 

“I know, it’s just… it’s a lot of people, Dave. What if someone hurts me?” 

“I’ll never leave your side. I promise. We won’t stay long.”

“What if someone recognizes me as the prince?”

“It’s one of those mask things. We’ll put you in Crocker family clothes. I’ll be your guard. Jake and Jane were formally invited, so we’ll be let in as close friends to them. You know I can’t leave you alone here, but I also need to go, John. Please understand that.” 

You think about it, even though you’re not exactly sure what you’re mulling over. You want Dave to find his brother’s killer, and you want him to be free. You want him to be happy, because that dead look you see in his eyes sometimes really puts pins in your heart. And as long as he’s close to you, you’ll feel safer. 

“All right,” you give in. 

“Thank you.” 

 

It’s been a long time since you’ve done anything fancy. But as you look in the mirror at your outfit, there’s less fear in you. You feel confident. You have a half-cape draping over your shoulders and down to the middle of your back. There’s a jeweled belt around the waist if your tunic, holding your hatchet and a dagger sheath, and your black boots are shined, hugging your calves. 

Dave chuckles, noticing how you’re checking yourself out. You give him a look, raising your eyebrows. But fuck, he looks good too. He’s wearing a darker red than he used to, more maroon, and there’s a long knight’s cape lying back over his shoulders and brushing his ankles. He’s got his brother’s sword at his hip and baggy gray sleeves that eventually top where his black gloves are on his hands. 

“You look fine,” he assures you. 

“So do you.”

He smirks and walks over to you, his boots making small clicks against the floor. He stands in front of you, fixing your shirt and trying to tame some of your wild hair. Then he seems to notice something and pulls open your half-cape, his whole body seeming to pause. 

You look down, realize you have the Strider family broach pinned on. You slap your hand over it, face flushing red, head dipping down. 

Dave’s hand drops from you. “Why…” is the only word that comes from his mouth.

“The morning you ran from the castle, you left it behind. So I kept it,” you answer feebly. 

“But why?”

You shrug. “I have no idea, I just did.” 

“It’s what you took from the bandit.” 

You keep your gaze away from his piercing red eyes, nodding. Then you feel Dave’s hand on yours, moving your palm away so that he can look at the old symbol of his family, something that only he and Dirk used to wear. A red, metallic circle with a crooked slice through the middle. 

“Um… you can take it back if you want,” you mutter, moving to unpin it. “I mean, it’s the Strider symbol, I was just keeping it safe and—”

“Keep it.” 

“Huh?”

He re-pins it, then covers it with the fabric of your short cloak again. “Keep it,” he repeats. 

“But it’s yours.”

“I know. But it looks nice on you.”

You give him a soft smile, running your fingers over the broach. “You look really good, too.” 

“You flatter me, prince. Shall we be on our way though?” 

He holds his arm out, and you hesitate before wrapping yours with his, letting him escort you from your room for the first time in over a week. There’s a carriage outside that the stablehands have ready, and you have to admit that Jane looks absolutely beautiful in her gown. Jake looks pretty fancy too, and you’re pretty sure Jane is just melting at the sight of him. 

On the way to the villa, Jane goes on and on about how excited she is. She keeps making eyes at Jake and telling him about how good he looks. Dave only smirks at her voice and keeps to himself, gazing out the window. You’re a bit more relaxed. Maybe a little ball is what you need to get your mind off of things. To dance with some nice ladies and sip a bit of strong wine. 

You wear a blue mask over your eyes with feathers on the edges, and Dave touches your cheek to turn your head, tying the laces of the mask behind you. He wears his own red mask with black embroidery, a see-through black screen over the holes for the eyes so that it hides his eye color. If anyone at the party saw the red they would instantly know of the famous Hell’s Knight. 

The new villa is just as large as the one Jane and her family resides in, and you can hear the music and chattering inside. As the carriage pulls up to the front gates you turn to Dave and ask, “Who is this lady anyway?” 

“Roxanne. Kind of a sneaky drunk, but a genius,” Dave explains. “Calls the shots around here and such. Not horrible, but no one questions her, ya know?” 

You nod, and you feel nervousness churn in your stomach when the carriage stops and the door is opened by a servant. Dave gives your leg a reassuring squeeze before he gets out, then holds his hand out for you. You smile as you take it, stepping out and walking beside him as you approach the front of the home where light of the party streams out, flickering across the courtyard. 

The inside is bursting with life, and you grin. Something about being surrounded by music and such happy people makes you feel lighter inside, as if the stressful weight is flowing right out of you.

“Isn’t it fun?” you pipe up. 

Dave shrugs. “How many of these things have you been to?”

“The castle holds a few a year, you know that.” 

“Yeah, but I never liked going to them.”

“You went anyway!”

“I had to keep an eye on you, though.” 

You shrug and give him a small eye roll. He only smirks and says, “What do you rich people do here in the first place?”

“We dance! And we mingle, and we play games and we eat. It’s fun!”

“Sure, sure.”

“You know how to dance, right?” you tease.

“Of course I do,” he scoffs. 

Jane and Jake soon join you, and Jake puts a hand on Dave’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “The Miss Roxanne will be arriving later. The most you can do for now is enjoy yourself, Mr. Strider.” 

Dave scowls. You chuckle. Then you watch in surprise as Jake stands before Jane, holding his hand out, and asking the “beautiful young lady” to a dance. Jane is blushing red, but she takes his hand, and you’re smiling at the sight of them as they hold onto one enough and merge into the crowd of waltzing couples. 

“He’s got game,” Dave says.

You glance past Dave, seeing a young girl in a blue and green dress giggling, glancing at both you and Dave. You pop your eyebrows up a bit. “Looks like you’ve got game too.” 

On que, the young woman leaves her small group of friends and approaches Dave, giving him a little curtsy. “You look new,” she says. 

Dave shrugs. “Perhaps I am.” 

“You should get to know people then. Perhaps we can chat over a dance.” 

Dave looks like he wants to die. You pinch him in the back and you snicker when he holds back a yelp. You may not be able to see his eyes, but you just know he’s glaring. He gives in though, bowing to the young girl and taking her hand before leading her out to the dance floor. 

You try to find a table where you can sit and wait for Dave to return. But the song ends and a new one starts and suddenly Jane is in front of you, poking your cheek. “Up, Jonathan! Come dance.” 

“No girl wants to dance with me,” you scoff.

“Well, your cousin does! Now up!” 

You smile, letting her drag you out to the dance floor. The violins fill the room, echoing off the tall ceiling of golden colors, and you glance up at the sparkling chandelier that hangs there. Then you put a hand on Jane’s waist, taking her hand, and you both flash each other a smile before you start moving with the rest of the crowd. 

You’ll admit, you’re glad she made you dance. It’s fun, and the old steps you learned from your teachers as a child return to you, and moving is suddenly fluent and fun, like the way you memorize the keys on your piano. Her dress flows gently with the way the music flows, and you mirror her shining smile, all the stress gone. You can’t even remember why you were worried in the first place. 

When the song ends, Jane gives your cheek a kiss and is intercepted by Jake, who apparently is very excited for a second dance with the girl. You let her go, trying to awkwardly find your way out of the crowd. But your back hits something hard, and someone’s hand is on your waist. 

“Heading somewhere, prince?” 

You sigh at Dave, but you can’t help it when part of your lips lift in a smile. “Just trying to find a spot to sit.” 

“I thought you enjoyed dancing.” 

“I do, but—”

He jerks your hips into his, and you know that you’re blushing right away. Hopefully part of your mask covers your cheeks. You end up scowling at him though, because his hand resting on your hip puts you in the girl’s position in the dance, but he only gives you a sly grin that basically says “put up with it.” 

At first you’re quite shy. You hope no one is watching. Eventually, you end up not caring though. Like before, the stress is gone, and you’re happy. And Dave looks so amazing with that smile on, and you’re close enough to his face to see the bright red behind his mask cover. He completely sweeps you off your feet a few times on the quick turns in the dance, and you’re laughing under your breath. 

“My, my, Dave, I didn’t know you still had these skills in you,” you chuckle. 

He pulls you in close for a second, gives a little smile, then keeps spinning with you again. “If I remember correctly, you taught me everything.” 

“True!” 

You remember that. When Dave first became a knight and your personal guard, he was invited to his first ball with you. Except he didn’t have any clue on how to move his feet to music. You spent hours with him during the night, alone in the throne room, teaching him how to hold his hands and where to move his feet, and you can’t even count how many times he stepped on your toes. 

But it was adorable, and you enjoyed being alone with him. When the ball eventually came, you sat back and watched girl after girl spin around the room on Dave’s arm, and even though you were happy for him, something deep in the pit of your stomach wanted to show everyone how you and Dave moved together. Just you two. It was better than any couple there. 

Right now, you’re getting that, and you don’t care who sees. Because you’re a good dancer, and so is Dave, and he makes you feel so alive. At the edge of the crowd, you part from Dave and still hold his hand, dragging him away behind you. 

“Where are we going?” he asks. 

“I’m getting tired. Come with me.” 

He follows, and you make your way through people in rich tunics and dresses with jewels, making your way to a hall in the back that leads out of the main ballroom. There’s still more people in the hallway, but you lead Dave past that, going up a flight of stairs, and your heart is beating hard in your rib cage. 

You find a balcony on the second floor, pushing through the curtains and then spinning around to shove Dave against the wall. You can see your name coming from his lips, but you cover them with your own, gripping onto his cheeks and holding it. 

His muscles let go under your touch. You open your lips, kissing him again, your hands running down from his face to his neck. Wow, you can’t believe you rejected his kiss last week. There was too much fear in you, from everything, but now it’s gone, and you can only think about him. 

But he’s not moving. You rest your hands on his chest, pulling away and staring at him. He clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Um…” Your face feels hot and you scratch against your head. “I’m… sorry.” 

“Why now?” 

“You know it’s illegal, right?” 

“What?”

“A prince and a knight. A commoner in your case. And we’re both men… You could get in so much trouble. Sometimes, prison. It’s never the royal’s fault. I was looking out for you.” 

“Then why now?” 

You gulp and whisper, “I need you.” 

He doesn’t move and he doesn’t reply. He just breathes softly. You reach up and hold the edges of his mask, pushing it up on top of his head to let the moonlight shine on his bright red eyes. He’s only staring at you, so you cup his cheek and lean in to connect mouths again. 

This time he responds, and his hands are on your waist. You wrap one arm around his neck, the other on his jaw to lead each deep kiss. You lick against his bottom lip, pressuring him for more, and you think you triggered something with that because he spins you around, your own back against the stone wall as he presses his body into you, his lips moving perfectly with yours. His hands are all over your sides, and you wish they were on your bare skin. 

His tongue runs across your teeth, so you open up and meet the touch, and it’s just amazing. You run your own tongue across his, breathing hot into his mouth. His hands grip your hips a little harder, pressing your lower bodies together, and you let out a soft noise. The way he takes control has you breathless, and you’d be speechless if you could actually use your mouth to speak at the moment. The only use your mouth is doing is being ravaged by Dave’s tongue and letting out short moans. 

His hand grips you jaw, tilting your head, and his lips move along your jaw, leaving little nips that make you tense in pleasure. Then he has your neck at his mercy, and damn, you’re are so fine with that. You run your hands through his soft hair, pulling him in all the closer as your lower body feels hot with fire, and his mouth is even hotter as it travels the sensitive skin of your neck, starting to suck on a spot just under your jaw. 

“D-Dave,” you gasp, squirming under him. “No marks.”

He makes a small growl, but then just yanks your short cape open and tugs your tunic down so that he can latch his lips along your collarbone, sucking there instead. This you’re okay with, gripping his head there and moaning now, pressing your hips out into his in which he responds by pinning them back to the wall. 

“David?” a voice calls.

Dave shoves a hand over your mouth, his lips still pressed against your neck. It was Jake’s voice out in the hallway, and your eyes are opened wide in alarm. As much as you trust Jake, it’s just not enough to let him know about this. 

“Yes?” Dave replies quietly, and you’re shivering from his hot breath on your neck. 

“Miss Roxy showed up. She can see us now, if you’re not busy.”

Dave bites your neck a bit, and you let out a little squeak against his hand. His thigh slips between yours, and fuck you want to kill him, and oh God you want it. 

“Coming,” he answers. 

His hand comes off your mouth, being instantly replaced by his lips. He kisses you once, twice, three passionate times before his lips are on your ear, his voice low and soft and husky. “Leave in two minutes.” 

Your eyes just about roll back, but you manage to nod. Then he’s gone, and cold air washes over your body. Still shivering inside, you peek past the curtains and see the back of Jake and Dave as they head back to the party. You watch the way Dave strides easily, arms lightly swinging with his gait and his cape billowing along. 

You look back out at the moon while fixing your clothes, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm down your body that’s still prickling with pleasure. You count to yourself until two minutes are up, but mostly you’re just replaying everything that happened in your head. Then you leave and go back to the ballroom. 

Spotting Dave is easy. You have an quick eye for him. He’s sitting at one of the biggest tables in the room next to a young women in a dark blue gown that shines with jewels every time she moves. Her mask is the same color, but two very bright pink eyes land on you, and she gives you a smirk, sipping from her glass. Jake is there too, standing over her shoulder on the other side, both listening intently. 

You approach behind them and catch the conversation as Dave is saying quietly, “Where can I find him?” 

Miss Roxy almost spills her drink, but she sips from it once, thinking. Her fingers are long and delicate and her hair looks soft, although big with volume. She hums to herself, then lies her long fingernails on Dave’s cheek, turning his head to her. 

“You’ll has to tell me what you can do for me firth,” he says, hiccuping after. “I mean have.” She pauses. “First.” 

“I can do nothing,” Dave admits quietly. “But you have no idea how important this is to me. All you have to do is give me some information. Speak some words. And then I’m out of your face and there are no problems for you. Please, ma’am.” 

Her arm drapes around his shoulders, pulling him in close. Her pink lips are on his ear, and you’re barely close enough to hear her whisper softly against him, “He’ll be in the place closet to his target.” Hiccup. “Closest.” 

Dave doesn’t pull away, lowering his own voice. “Friends with the target…”

“Eeeeee-yup!” She kisses his cheek, giggling as she drinks again. 

“Who do you think his target is right now, though?” 

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuumm…” She sways back and forth, staring at the ceiling and thinking. “You thee—see—there’s two routes that these peoples usually take. They’re either smart and start small, working bit. Big. Ooooooooooor…” 

She doesn’t continue. Dave sighs and scoots closer. “Or?”

“Or working small doesn’t work. And they skit—skip—everything. Got for the gold.”

“Is there a chance the first one might not work and they’ll start with the first one and then skip to the second one in the middle of it.”

“If it gets frustrating enough, yes. Go big or go home, ya know, sweetcheeks?”

Dave pauses for a while. His head tips up to look at Jake, and there’s this invisible mutual nod between them. Then he replies to Roxy, “Yes, I do know. Thank you very much, ma’am. You’re party is wonderful and I apologize for interrupting. I hope you do enjoy the rest of it.” 

“Sure thang! Stay cute!” 

Dave stands up, pushing his chair in, parting to talk privately with Jake, their voices hushed. A bit annoyed, you step in and ask, “What’s going on? What did I miss?” 

Dave immediately responds to you, “We’re going back to the castle.”


	9. Chapter 9

You and John don’t get much of a chance to say goodbye to Jane and Jake and the rest of the Crocker family. Jake is staying behind to make sure Jane is safe, only because she is in line for the throne, therefore putting her at a slight risk. 

Jake had actually hugged you goodbye. He patted your back and whispered in your ear, “Kill him for me.” 

You promised you would. For both him and Dirk. Then he kept you close and continued, “I see the way you look at each other. I’m not stopping anything, lad… just be careful, please.” 

You’re good at controlling a blush, so you only looked down and nod to his words. 

“He’s watching over you,” Jake said. “I bet he’s real bloody proud.” 

“Maybe.” 

That’s all you could say. You said goodbye to Jane, and she baked lots of food to bring along for your travels, and after John said his goodbyes you both were off. You traveled all day, leaving the town behind, and now were back on the dusty road surrounded by fields and trees. 

John doesn’t say a whole lot, and all that’s running through your mind is that kiss you had with him at the ball. More like kisses. There was a lot of kisses. You loved every second of it, and you wonder if John regrets it. Considering all the illegal-ness about it, maybe he did it out of the fun of the party, and he’s probably wishing it hadn’t happened every second that you two get closer to the castle. 

It’s a different kind of tense than the tenseness that was present on your way to the Crocker villa. Before it was more of a I-hate-this-boy-I-don’t-want-to-be-here-I-want-to-kill-him kind of tense. Now it’s wow-that-was-awkward-everything-is-ruined-now type of tense. 

What doesn’t help is the rain that comes later. Luckily, you and John made a lot of ground that day so you make camp early. John protests when you drape your cloak over him to keep him warm and dry, but you tell him to shut up and work on pulling out a leather tarp to make a small area where you both can stay dry. By the time you have the small shelter set up, you’re soaked to the bone and John simply pulls you under the cover, starting to undo your belt. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, shivering. 

“You’ll freeze to death if you don’t get warmed up.”

“Isn’t that the point of perhaps leaving my clothes on?”

“No, your clothes are too cold. Dry clothes warm you, wet clothes will absorb your heat. You need body heat.” 

“Body heat?”

Okay, you kind of already knew all of this, but you were just avoiding what he was talking about. But fuck, you’re cold, so you give in and take your tunic off, along with your trousers until you’re only in your undershorts and dry boots. John simply holds his blanket open, waiting. With a sigh, you give in and scoot beside him, letting him hug you and holy shit he’s so warm, you didn’t realize you were so freezing. You burrow your face into his neck, shaking, and you bend your arms up between your chests to absorb heat from both of you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“Yeah.”

You’re so tired. Your head dips into the cave of his neck, and you shiver as John’s fingertips brush up and down along your back. They shape around your spine and your shoulder blades. His fingers run along your scars there, the lashes you got when you were younger, and that makes you flinch.

“Don’t.”

“What?” he says.

“Don’t touch my scars like that.”

“They’re not bad, Dave—”

“No, they’re fuck ups, now leave them alone.” 

Your hair is still damp, but you’re flinching again as John’s fingers run up through it. You give him a glare, but he’s not looking at you. His fingers move, rubbing your scalp and caressing your skin, and wow that’s really nice, you wish you could tell him to never stop, but you’re speechless. Your eyes dim and you loll your head into his touches. 

Next thing you know, his fingers are tracing the scars on your back again. But you don’t really give a shit. You just want him to keep playing with your hair and making you feel so warm like he already is. You fall asleep with him there, his arms around you. 

 

You’re surprised John doesn’t ask questions about why you’re going back to the castle, or why you’re pushing the two of you so hard. Ari flies over your heads as you carry on, and she disappears for a while, but you’re not worried about her. You and John eventually reach Rose and Kanaya’s home and stay there only one night, and they both make you leave with more clean clothes and fresh food. 

When you left, Rose made sure to whisper to you, “You already have a large bounty on your head. Don’t make it bigger.”

You know what she meant. But you just smiled and kissed her forehead, then Kanaya’s, thanked them both, and then you and John were on your way again. 

 

It isn’t until a few days later that John speaks. You both talk a lot, but he asks you what he’s been meaning to ask you for a long time now. 

“Aren’t we supposed to go back when we get a message saying that it’s safe?” 

You tighten your gloved hands on your horse’s reins. Ari is sitting on top of your head, but no matter how much you shake around she keeps landing there, so you’ve given up and let her. You poke at her toes to annoy her as you think about how to answer John, taking a deep breath.

“It was something Roxy said,” you reply. 

“What did she say?”

“You heard her.” 

“The stuff about skipping the starting small?”

“Yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“My bro was a head knight. No where near the king title. That was starting small. You? Your death was the next step. But I’m watching over you, and I’m not going to brag, but I’m pretty sure people don’t want to mess with me when it comes to assassinating you. Go big or go home she said. Know what that means?”

“No…” 

You look at him and his face seems to be paling. “Yeah.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Why would I lie about that? I know you want it to be a lie, but… yeah.”

John doesn’t talk again. He just wrings his hands nervously on his horse’s reins. You don’t like seeing him look so scared, so you try and find some comforting words, but you really suck at that, so you’re quiet. For a long time. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” you eventually say. 

“I don’t care about me anymore,” he says. 

“Well, I do. So that will be my priority. And yours can be your family.” 

“I’m not strong enough to protect them,” he mutters, miserably. 

You quicken your horse to a trot for a bit, catching up beside John so that he’ll look over at you. For a while, you don’t speak. You just want to hold his gaze and pour your emotions out to him through your eyes. But you can’t. You can only believe it’s possible.

“Everything is going to be okay,” you say to him, and there’s familiarity in those words. 

“How can you say that?”

“I don’t know. But someone told me that it would all be okay. Even if bad things happen, when it’s all over, it will be okay. I promise.” 

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes stay open to just look at you. You reach over and pat his leg, then focus on the road before you with a long breath releasing from your lungs. Out of the corner of your eye you see John looking down, mulling over what you said, and then eventually looking up again, back erect, gaze intent. At least he believes you.

 

You both spend the night at an inn a few days later. You’re pushing John hard with the traveling, and he doesn’t complain, but you know it’s taking a toll on him. He tries to assure you he’s fine, but you force him to rest. 

In the middle of the night, while you’re in a half sleep, you’re woken up by John gasping for air. You immediately fear that he’s being harmed by another assassin, but when you glance over you only see him alone in his bed, clawing at his chest and neck as he wheezes. 

You swing your legs from bed, leaning over him and shaking his shoulders. You say his name and hold his face in your hands, giving him another shake. “John!” 

He opens his eyes, still gasping. But then they’re closed again, and his hands are over yours, making sure you don’t let go of him while he’s calming down. Your own heart is only a little frantic, kind of relieved it was just a nightmare and not actually him being suffocated. 

“You okay?” you whisper when he’s quieter.

He nods meekly, but quickly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay…” 

Without thinking, you crawl into bed with him. He doesn’t protest, rather rolling into your side and hugging an arm around your middle, his head on the front of your shoulder. He’s still shaking under your touch, but his breathing is gentle, the rest of his body following in suit. 

Even though you hold him, hand caressing the back of his neck and in his hair, he does not sleep again. And you know he needs it. Very subtly, you begin humming. You can never help yourself when the words quietly escape, “Baw me bairne, sleep softly now…”

He twists a bit, hugging you tighter. But his muscles relax, and you can almost feel his soul let go with slumber. 

“ A maiden mother, meek and mild,

In cradle keep, a knavë child,

That softly sleep; she sat and sang…”

 

You’re a days ride from the castle. You set up camp in the woods, but near the road. John is dozing off on your shoulder and you’re gently playing with his hair, and you can’t help but love how okay this is with the two of you. 

You first fell for John when he taught you to dance. When he put your hand on his hip and showed you how to spin him around the dance floor. When he whispered for you to dip him and you supported him as his blue eyes sparkled and he smiled with pride and happiness at you. 

You fell for John when you knelt before him and he dubbed you a knight. When you kissed his hand and swore on your duty to protect him. 

The night after John first taught you to dance, you felt funny in the stomach. Your brother caught you pacing in your room and laughed, suddenly wrapping an arm around your neck and rubbing his knuckles against your head. 

“What’s got you all worked up, lil’ man?” he asked. 

You had groaned and yanked your head out of his vice grip. “Nothing. Just… stupid things.” 

“Things like…?” 

“Knight things.”

“Well, I should be included in this then.”

“It’s romance shit,” you admitted.

He chuckled and patted you on the back, then shoved you onto your bed, plopping down next to you. “Well,” he started, “your ol’ bro here has much knowledge in the romance department, my fellow sibling.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he confirms. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it just isn’t meant to be.”

“Meant to be, like, fate-wise? Or not meant to be, like, completely illegal and super wrong?”

“Who exactly is your heart taking a liking to, kiddo?”

You fidgeted with your hands, looking down. Your brother was silent for a while. Then the realization washed over him and you heard an “oh” come from his mouth. Then he was silent again. And then there was a heavy sigh.

“Be careful,” he said. “Just… be careful, Dave.” 

“’Kay.”

“But no matter what happens, I’ll always have your back. All right?” 

That made you flash him a smile. “Thanks.” 

 

That’s not true, because he’s not here. 

There’s dew on the toes of your boots. You shift, sitting up from the tree you were sleeping against, John still pressed against you. He wakes up when he feels you move, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Castle is close,” you say. “Get packing.” 

He nods and you both pack up your supplies and mount your horses again. The ride is slower since you’re in the main kingdom now, and you can see excitement spark in John’s eyes when he sees the tip of the castle in the distance. You know he’s happy to get home, but you’re a still bit worried of what your own fate is going to be. 

“I feel like it’s been years,” John says.

“It’s been a month and a half.” 

“I know. You think we’ll reach there by the afternoon?”

“I’d say so.” 

You both ride in silence for a while, Ari screeching over your heads. Eventually it gets pretty annoying and your roll your eyes, yelling at her to shut up and that it’s too early to listen to her loudass beak. John chuckles, but the bird just keeps going. 

The tenseness between you two has dissipated. It’s just been accepted, even if you two haven’t even kissed again. You realize you’re staring at John, riding right next to him, and it takes him a while to notice. But he looks over after a while, flashing you a smile. “See something you like, Strider?”

“Yes,” you say right away. 

He only smiles brighter, turning away again. “I think it will be okay.”

“What do you mean?” 

“What you said earlier,” he explains. “About everything being okay. I believe you. It will be okay. And us? I think we’re already okay, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You start to mirror his smile, only a bit. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you regret kissing me?” 

He’s still looking at you. His smile softens, but it’s still there. Then he shakes his head. “No. I don’t think I’ve ever made a better choice.”

Oh, yeah, that’s your heart throbbing, and God you love that feeling. You turn ahead again, and even Ari’s stupid squawking doesn’t annoy you anymore. You just ride on, thinking about what life is going to be like when you’re a free man. What life will be like in the castle again, with John always by your side. 

But even these happy thoughts don’t disrupt your constant alertness. The corner of your eye catches a glint of light in the forest along the road, and that glint is attached to a weapon, which is attached to a wielder. 

“John!” 

John looks at you, which is NOT where you want him to look, and you reach out to shove him off his horse and out of the way, but all you see is an arrow tip thudding into the prince’s chest and throwing him backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SNAP.


	10. Chapter 10

You see the arrow as soon as it hits you. There’s a moment of shock and fear. Your heart stops for a second, knowing it’s coming. Your body tenses and waits for the pain and for the breathing issues to start and for the blood to flow. 

There’s a lot of force as you go back, air whistling by your ear as you fall off your horse, the creature letting out a frantic neigh at the situation, and then your back hits the ground, skull slamming into it right after. You’re glad you black out. 

 

_”What’s wrong, Egbert?”_

_You were pacing in the throne room, Dave having recently returned from using the washroom. You looked at him, stared at him, but then starting pacing again while crossing your arms. “My father.”_

_“What happened?”_

_His voice was so calm, so collected. He was always like that. His body was straight, eyes always a quarter dimmed. Only when you were alone with him did he brighten up and show more emotions. You like both sides to him, though._

_“He’s trying to set me up with some girl,” you sighed._

_Dave doesn’t say anything for a while. You stop pacing and rather cross your arms across your chest muttering, “I’m sixteen, I don’t need a wife.”_

_Dave was silent._

_“Like, I know people start meeting other people around this age, but I’m fine! I don’t need a wife. And women don’t always need a husband. I don’t have to fight and learn how to lead battles, and women don’t have to always cook and bear children. It’s not fair, Dave!”_

_Dave was still quiet for a while. Then he stepped closer, his hands down in his pockets once he was right in front of you. “Hey.”_

_It made you look up, meeting his eyes. He looked around, making sure no one was nearby to see you two, and then he did the rarest thing and flashed you that special smile that only you were allowed to see._

_“I think you’d be an awesome king without a wife,” he said._

_Returning his smile, you scoffed and crossed your arms once again. “Right. King.” You don’t want to be king._

_“I don’t think there’s a better leader than you,” he said. “Having a wife would just ruin your fantastic imagine. I think it’d be better if you just stuck with a good bro like me.”_

_“Right, are you suggesting we marry, Sir David?”_

_He chuckled softly, leaning on one hip and crossing his own arms to copy you. “What do you think I’m suggesting, Prince Jonathan?”_

_“A load of illegal bullshit, that’s what.”_

_Then he laughed instead of chuckled, a real laugh, and soon you were laughing too. And you love that about him. That he can do that to you, or that he only laughs for you. You don’t even mind when he laughs at you, because at least you get to hear it._

_“What would I do without you, Strider?”_

_He shrugged. “Fall into a spiraling pit of despair.”_

_He held your gaze, and you narrowed your eyes. But you couldn’t help but laugh again, and he only smiled. A pain sparked through your chest though, and you placed your hand there. “Ow…”_

_“Are you all right?”_

_“My chest…” It began to hurt more, as if you were taking a knife right into your skin, and it was becoming painful to breathe. You collapsed, legs numb, and you heard Dave yelling your name as he caught you._

_“Wake up,” he muttered in your ear._

_“D-Dave—”_

_“Wake up, I’m there.”_

_He was turning blurry, and his voice was echoing away, and you were opening your eyes to new lights._

 

Your eyes open. 

Your chest is aching, a dull pain throbbing and something is tearing your skin. You groan and try to breathe, looking down at your chest to see the long stem of the arrow. 

It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

Glancing up with fuzzy vision you see Dave, and he’s moving fast. Then there’s the sound of clashing swords, and you see the blur of another man. You don’t want him to be hurt, so you focus on your own wound to get over it and take a deep breath before looking down to see where the arrow pierced you.

And then there’s a miracle, and you choke in surprise for a second. You touch your chest, realizing why it doesn’t hurt. The Strider broach pin is slightly ruined, the metal indented. The arrow is stuck in the broach, only the tip of it stabbing your skin. Slowly, wincing only once, you pull it out and whisper a thanking prayer to God. 

The shock is still running through your body. Shakily, you stand up, the horses frantic and pawing at the ground. Dave is still intensely swinging his sword back and forth, advancing towards another sword fighter who’s dressed in all black, yet another assassin you don’t recognize. 

You’re digging in the saddlebags for your hatchet, continuing to glance at Dave. He looks so angry, and his expression almost scares you. His eyes are literally red with fire, and even though you’ve seen him flashstep, you’ve never actually seen him fight with his sword this fast and skilled before. It makes you pause, wary of him. 

With time, your fingers find your hatchet and you spin it in your hand a few times. You can feel blood soaking into your tunic from your small wound, but you’re more focused on how pissed you are at this guy. You’re getting real fucking annoyed of these assassination attempts. 

REALLY. Fucking. Annoyed. 

You approached at a normal pace, the assassin busy fighting Dave, and you twist your weapon until you have the hammer side of it at your command. Clenching your jaw, you walk right up to the distracted man, lift your arm, and smash the hunk of metal against his skull with a yell. 

He crumples to his knees, but eventually gives up on trying to stay conscious, falling over. Feeling more than satisfied, you huff out some air and look at Dave with a big grin. His eyes are wide, and he’s looking at your chest, and then farther back where you left the arrow with the impaled broach on the end. 

“The… crest… you…” He can’t get his words out. He looks like he’s in complete shock, sheathing his weapon and groaning into his hands. Then he suddenly has his arms around you, clutching you tightly. His fingers curl into your back, his face hidden deep in the crook of your neck. 

You soften, knowing he probably thought you had been seriously injured. That you were dying, or had died, or beating himself up inside because he thought he had failed his mission to protect you. So you hug him back, gripping until your bodies are flush together. 

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “Just a little cut, Dave. I’m fine. I promise.” 

“Fuck,” he coughs out, and he only hugs you all the tighter. 

“Dave, really, I’m okay. Nothing a little bandage can’t fix, all right?” 

“Fuck,” he repeats. 

“Seriously. Dave, I’m—”

He grabs your face and kisses you. You make a noise of protest first, but you can feel his emotions in that kiss. The pain he felt when he saw you get hit by that arrow, the dread and the agony that must have been filling his gut. You grip tightly onto his tunic, pulling your bodies together once more as his lips move against yours, his hands still holding your face as if you might just disappear on him. 

He pulls away for a bit, panting, and you flash him a giant grin. He scoffs at you, makes a small smile, and then presses your mouths together again. You give in, arms around his neck, tongue meeting his, and you let everything just flow in perfection. The way he licks your bottom lip and runs his tongue across your teeth, the way his nips are so gentle, but so damn tempting. 

Then you remember that you whacked a dude on the head with a hammer and pull away from Dave. He doesn’t like that, kissing at your neck now instead. 

“Dave. Dave, the guy.” 

He groans and parts, looking down at the body that’s slowly bleeding from the skull. You wipe your lips awkwardly as Dave kneels down, checking the guy’s neck for a pulse. Your stomach fills with dread as you mutter, “Did I kill him…?”

“No,” he replies, and you sigh in relief. “But he’ll be lucky if he continues on without brain damage. Perhaps killing him would be an act of mercy.”

“Dave, no…”

“What if the people he works for find him useless? Then they’ll give him a worse death. Maybe torture him over his failure. Do you want that?”

“You don’t have to kill everyone!” 

He looks over his shoulder and up at you, and that intense gaze of his has you shutting up immediately. 

“He could tell his boss where you are and where we’re headed. It’s too much work to take him back to the castle. You know we’re on a tight schedule here, and we’re only wasting time arguing.”

You don’t know what to say to convince him anymore. You just tighten your fingers on the handle of your weapon and let out a pathetic, “Don’t kill him, Dave…” 

He stands up abruptly, sighing very heavily. “Whatever. Let’s go, hurry up.” 

Furrowing your brows in annoyance and anger at him, you turn away and work on latching your hatchet to your belt. You grumble a few words to yourself too, attempting to calm down your horse that’s still a bit jumpy from the whole attacking situation. 

Before you climb up, Dave grips your shoulder and spins you around.

“What?” you snap.

His hand is resting on your chest, his eyes on the spot of your tunic that’s filling with blood. The sadness in your eyes sends you on a guilt trip. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “It’ll stop bleeding in a bit. Barely anything got through.” 

He nods, trusting you, then presses a kiss to your forehead. “Come. There may be more. We’ll have to move quickly.” 

 

Dave is obviously nervous when you and he reach the castle. Even you’re nervous. You know your father promised his freedom, but you both didn’t wait until you got the message to come back. You came back because your dad might be in danger. 

Soldiers raise their weapons, but you hold out a steady hand to keep them at bay. Dave keeps his hood up over his eyes, hiding. You know that no one would be able to kill him if they tried, but you’re still protective over him. The same way he is with you. And you’re both still wary. He could take on any soldier or knight here, but if they all came on at once, you’re pretty sure they would outnumber him immediately. 

You stop at the entrance of the castle, letting a few servants take your horses. Dave makes them wait, then takes a whole bunch of things out the saddle bags since he has this pet peeve that they’ll be stolen, latching them on his belt or shoving them in his pockets. Then he gives you a nod that he’s done, teeth digging into a fresh apple. 

You demand a servant to take you to your father. She eyes Dave suspiciously, but complies and leads the way, Dave following behind you and only munching on his fruit. Ari is on his shoulder at the time, giving him a creepier look. 

Your dad is in one of the sitting rooms. You enter warily, keeping Dave close behind you so that no one will hurt him. Before the servant can bow and announce you, your father looks up from the book he’s reading and is on his feet in seconds, eyes wide. “Son!” 

Unable to help it, you smile and go to him, letting him wrap you in a tight hug. It’s odd, smelling someone else’s scent as you hold them, because all you’re used to is Dave’s scent lately. But you recognize this one in a different was, and you smile warmly against his broad chest.

“I’m all right,” you assure him.

He parts from you, but has a tight grip on your shoulders. “Jonathan. What are you doing here? What happened, are you injured?”

You glance down at the spot of dried blood on your tunic. “No, no. Well, yeah, but it’s nothing bad, just got nicked by an arrow. Dave took care of it, don’t worry.” 

Your father only glances at Dave who’s standing by the doorway still, trying to look casual and nonchalant as he eats his apple. You look up at your father’s pale eyes again and explain, “Dave and I did some research. On Dirk’s death. It wasn’t him, Dad. Someone else did it, and Dave was framed. And we think that whoever did it is close by and might be after you.”

He’s taken aback, hands loosening on your shoulders. Shaking his head a bit, his hands completely drop. “No, that can’t be right. We have top security here.”

“I almost got killed here, Dad. It’s possible you could be at risk! We all are. And it doesn’t matter where I am. Besides, it’s probably safer in a protected castle, and with Dave here, he can protect all of us.” 

The king lets out a weary sigh, his hand going to the side of your neck. His voice lowers, but you know Dave can still hear as he says, “I thought you hated him. He’s a traitor.”

“I learned things,” you reply quietly. 

“Son, he can’t be trusted.”

“You trusted me with him. That sure says a lot about how you feel about me.”

“That’s not true. It was a risk for your safety.”

“Then let’s make this risk for our safety. For me and you. And for Jade. I don’t want him hurt, but I know he can protect her. Don’t you want Jade safe?” 

He sighs once again, rubbing his forehead. You look back at Dave while your father thinks, and he’s finished his apple and Ari has flown out the window. He still has his cloak hood up, and his chin is tilted down, his eyes up to meet yours. He doesn’t smile or show any expression. He just looks at you. 

Then your father speaks, but not to you, rather to the few bodyguards that are standing nearby, listening and watching the whole thing. “Escort David to a guest room,” he says, so much disappointment hanging in his voice. “Stand guard at all times.”

When they move, you grab at your father’s arm and put a hand out to try and make the two soldiers stop. “No! Dad, he’s safe! He saved me so many times, please. He doesn’t need to be locked in a room until you figure stuff out. I’ll watch him.”

“I don’t trust him, Jonathan.”

“Well, I do! Dad, please.”

He stares at you for a while. The soldiers have paused, waiting. But then he shakes his head again. “Take him away.” 

“Dad!” 

You turn, watching the two men grip Dave’s arms, harder than they need to. He doesn’t protest. He just gives you his deadpan look, holding your gaze, but you know him better than anyone and you can see the sadness hidden in there, the tiny amount of fear. You try to go after him as they drag him out of the room, but one of the bodyguards puts a large hand on your chest to hold your back, your own dad holding your other arm. 

You stand still, letting the anger drip out of you, slowly. The sound of Dave and the others leaving is gone. You yank your arm out of your father’s grip and exit the room, ignoring his call. You’re not supposed to be alone. You’re at risk. You need protection.

You don’t care. 

 

You didn’t see Dave again for the rest of the day. Dinner was awkward with your father, but Jade was very happy to see you again, hugging you for the longest time and idly playing with your hair when she was done eating, making little braids in it and telling you about all the stuff that happened while you were away. Your dad left dinner early. 

Jade took you to the washroom later, sitting you down so that she could clean up the small wound on your chest. While she did, you told her of your travels, and of meeting Rose and Kanaya. You told her how Jane and Jake are doing, and the ball you and Dave went to, and about Roxy. She smiled at parts, nodding, listening to everything. 

You trusted Jade more than your father. Carefully, quietly, in the private room, you whispered and told her about you and Dave. The way you two had kissed and the way you liked his touch and the way you liked being with him. 

She didn’t tell you to be careful. She rather said, “I like when you’re happy. But he better treat you right. Or I’m kicking ass.”

You had smirked, pulling her in to kiss her forehead and mess up her long hair that was already full of tangles, much like yours. She agreed that she’d keep it a secret, and you’re not worried about that. She’d never betray you.

Now it’s late. You can’t sleep. You wonder what room Dave is in, and if he’s sleeping, or if Ari can get in his room. You don’t want him to be lonely. Lying on your back in bed, you touch your lips and try to go back in time so that you can dream about the night at the ball, the way Dave’s body was so warm against you, the way his tongue broke into your mouth and took control.

The moon is high, but your curtains are barely open so that it’s hard to see around the dark room. You can barely make out your mirror against the wall, barely make out your shape lying on your bed. You sigh, about to close your eyes, but then you see a tall and shadowed figure standing behind you. 

Your heart lurches into your throat. You spin around. A scream almost tears loose. You react quickly, throwing a fist towards the stranger. 

Your hand is caught, and there’s a whisk of wind, and a gentle voice in your ear.

“Calm, prince. It is only me.”

Quietly, you gasp and lie a hand over your heart. “Fuck, Dave. Don’t. You scared the hell out of me.” 

“Sorry.” 

“How’d you get in?”

“Scaled the wall and climbed in through your balcony. You can open any latch with the right tools.”

You sigh, pulling your fist from his grip and lying back on your bed again. “Sneaky bastard.”

He chuckles low and soft, and the bed dips as he kneels on it. You let out a slow breath, watching his slim and dark figure hover over you, his hands on either side of your head. He’s only in some loose trousers, and the thin strip of moonlight in the room is putting small shadows on the scars that line his bare arm. 

You touch them, carefully, head turned to gaze at the way your fingers are on his skin. His face moves down, his lips brushing up your neck, and you hate the way he makes the fire burn in your core so quickly like that.

“Thank you for defending me,” he whispers, making you shiver when his breath and lips are on your ear. 

You don’t reply, rather running one of your hands back through his hair. The locks are soft on your skin, and your fingers tighten so that you can rub them on his scalp, massaging with care. 

He hums with satisfaction. But his body is still over you, unmoving. Knowing what he’s waiting for you finally whisper in return, “Stay here.” 

The covers are moved so that he can climb in. He’s pressed against your side for a second, hand catching your jaw and tilting your head. Blindly, his lips find yours and your rational thought process goes limp as you move to return each kiss. They fit perfectly, work in synch, and the only sound filling the room for the next few minutes is the quiet smacking of your lips and tongues as the work together. 

When he parts, you can feel his breath mingling with yours. No on says goodnight, but you know it’s there. You turn on your side and close your eyes, everything inside you feeling relaxed and at peace now. Dave stays behind you, his bare chest pressing into your back as his arm snakes around your middle, pulling you in securely. 

His breathing is warm on the back of your neck. He leaves soft kisses there. Your eyes just about roll back under your eyelids as you twine your fingers together with his, feeling his thumb caress your stomach. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, or any time soon, but right now, in that bed with him, you feel okay. The most perfect kind of okay there could ever be.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your sex.

John is warm. You both are close in height, and although he’s very strong, he’s still smaller than you. It makes you feel so comfortable and protective when you held him all night. You felt every breath he took, felt his heartbeat under the spot where you hand was spread on his chest. In the early morning, while he still sleeps, you run your lips up and down along the back of his neck, shaping his spine under your mouth. 

When he wakes up, he turns around in your arms, both of you sharing soft and tired morning kisses. Then he sleeps again, his head under your chin. 

When the sun starts shining through, you run your hand down along John’s side, nuzzling his cheek and kissing his lips. “Hey.”

He blinks tiredly, letting out a hum to let you know he’s listening.

“I should get to my own room. I’ll be back tonight.” 

His arms are up and around your neck, holding you in place, not yet wanting you to leave. You sigh, but hug him back either way. Everyone else is warm during a hug, but God, John is the warmest. It’s like sitting next to a safe fire. You press your nose in his hair and inhale his scent, memorizing it so that the memory of it can keep you sane for the rest of the day. 

“I’ll talk to my dad to get you out of there,” John eventually whispers. 

“Okay.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

You kiss him one more time and memorize that, too, then climb from bed. The soldiers below the balcony are too oblivious to see you scaling the wall like a damn lizard, and no one has noticed you’ve disappeared when you swing in through your own room’s window, landing quietly on your feet. 

And then the boredom continues.

 

You spend all day in that room. There’s a simple bed, a tiny fireplace, a dresser. A washroom. A mirror and a little chess game. You think you’ve beaten yourself and lost against yourself more times than you can count by now. It’s the only thing that fills the boredom. 

When you try to leave, the door is locked, and you can still hear the knights that keep a close watch on your door standing out there. You’d climb to John’s room again, but you don’t want to risk being seen in the daylight, and John probably isn’t there anyway. 

You hate this. A lot. You need to be near him, you need to keep him safe. You watched him almost die more times than necessary, and it’s driving you insane. He could be in danger at any second. So could Jade. And even though you’re not a huge fan of the king at the moment, you don’t want him dead. He’s just being wary of his son’s safety, and he’s already a great leader. 

You just need to be near John. You need to protect him. You may not be a knight anymore, but it was still you who knelt in front of him in the throne room and gave your soul to him. You have sworn duties to the prince, and you don’t intend to break them.

The next time the door opens, you’re given food from a servant. You ask if you can see John, but they only look at you and then leave again. You go the door behind him, yank on the knob, but it’s locked again.

You eat your lunch with a grim expression. 

You sleep until dinner. After eating again, you practice with your sword. 

When night comes, you’re excited. You sit at the window, watching the sun, waiting. Waiting. And then it’s gone. Finally. 

You climb out, fingers digging into the bricks of the wall as you slide against it, right over soldiers’ heads. You’re silent, blending in with the darkness. You toes touch the edge of John’s balcony not long after and you land without a sound, and this time you don’t have to use a file to flip the latch on the balcony doors. John has left it unlocked for you this time. 

Expecting you, he has a few candles lit, but the room is still fairly dark so that guards out in the hall will think he’s asleep. He’s sitting back against the headboard of his bed, reading a book, and you resist the smile tugging at your lips. 

“Greetings, prince.” 

He jumps, but then grins when he sees you, book left forgotten on his nightstand. He scoots over, and you know what he wants, so you get on the bed and sit back against the headboard next to him, watching as he turns a bit to idly run his fingers along your chest. 

“Dad is being stubborn,” he sighs.

“I bet.” 

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m bored as hell. There’s nothing to do. I’d rather be a damn wanted criminal on the streets again. At least that way I’d have something to keep me occupied.” 

He heaves a sigh, hand moving to wrap around your middle. His lips are cool, kissing your bare shoulder. “I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry. I think I’m starting to crack him.” 

“If not in a few days, then I’m running away again. I can’t take it in there.”

“You mean that?”

You’re about to say yes, but you know it’s not true. You need to stay. For him. So you end up shaking your head with a quiet, “No. Have to keep you safe.”

“I’m fine.”

“Say that to the fever that almost killed you. Or when you were almost suffocated to death. Maybe that arrow that pierced you. Yeah. Totally fine. Sorry, my prince.” 

John suddenly bites your shoulder, making you let out a quiet yelp. You’re about to hit him, but instead you just grab his chin a bit hard and lean in to start ravishing his neck with your tongue. He lets you, trying to play it cool at first, but of course he gives in. You’ve got the Strider charm, and in no time at all he’s letting out small gasps, his fingers moving to tighten in your hair, not wanting you to stop.

You swing a leg over him, straddling his lap while moving your tongue up his neck. You know you can’t leave marks, so you suck lightly on an area just under his ear, and then take the appendage into your mouth, shaping the shell of it with your tongue. A small moan comes from John’s mouth as he tilts his head. You find his lips later, sucking on his bottom one, pulling away when he tries to push in and kiss you, trying to tease the hell out of him. When your tongues finally meet, you feel his hips push against yours once.

Internally, you pause. But then you go back to kissing him, hard and relentless, and then your hips move to rut against him. He’s moaning immediately. It doesn’t take long until you can feel his arousal, and your kisses aren’t even coordinated anymore. They’re sloppy, and you’re both focusing on grinding your groins together for amazing friction and wonderful sensations of pleasure. 

“Oh God, Dave,” he lets out, trying to keep his voice down.

His hands tug your hair, then rub at your chest, probably feeling how fast your heart is going. You part only for a moment to pull his tunic off, trying not to rip it off in desire, and then run your own hands across his chest as your lips connect again. You lick at the drool running down his chin, thumbs tweaking at the two sensitive spots on his chest. 

“F-fuck, Dave,” he gasps quietly.

“Want me to stop?” you breathe against his lips. 

“No, no. Keeping going, please. I need you.” 

For one night, you both forget about your troubles. For one night, you don’t worry about consequences as your thumbs hook in the band of his pants, pulling down, and you don’t worry about the consequences when he pulls at your trousers too. 

For one night, he’s your entire focus. And yours. You move him down under you on the bed, laid out on the sheets. His lightly toned chest is heaving for breaths, showing the lines of his ribs and muscles, each contour that makes his body. You soak it in, running your lips along his skin in different places, taking parts into your mouth. His hair is still soft, splayed on the sheets beneath him, and his eyes are dimmed, staring at you with lust. 

He’s desperate for your bare touch. His voice is quiet and breathless, but begging you to touch him. He says your name. He says he needs you. “Dave, please…”

You lower your hips into his, flesh rubbing, and there is nothing more perfect than the way he’s trying to keep quiet while still moaning your name in both thanks and pleasure. His groans are muffled between bitten lips, not wanting to be caught, and you kiss them, letting your moans out into each other’s mouths as you continue to grind into him. There’s a rhythm and a pattern you’re both trying to match, and neither of you care when it takes a while to find it, because it all felt mesmerizing anyway. 

His legs are up and around your waist, pushing you against him harder every time. Arms wrap each other, as if he might disappear any second. And when you’re finally seeing white, letting his name tear from your lips, it’s the best thing in the world. 

 

John is peaceful when he sleeps. You run your fingertips along his cheek, then across his parted lips, feeling his breath on your skin. He looks perfect. You don’t want to disturb him. So you kiss his forehead gently before slipping out of his bed and quietly pulling your clothes back on. 

You can’t help but kiss him a few more times before you go. A smile is stuck on your lips as you climb across the castle wall, back into your own room. You’re not too bored that day. You don’t do much, but you’re reliving memories of a perfect night in your head, a night neither of you are never going to forget. 

You take a few naps, play chess against yourself again, then gaze out the window and watch some young pages do their training in the back courtyard. You wish you could be out there, teaching them. You remember when your brother taught you to sword fight. You can’t even count how many times he kicked you on your ass. But he lifted you up every time too. 

The door opens later, and you’re expecting your dinner. Instead, a knight says that you’ve been invited to dinner with the king and his family. You’re escorted there by the knights, their hands on your arms, and God do you want to smack them away. But you don’t think you should make a scene after you’ve finally been granted access from your room. 

The dining room that you’re eating in is smaller than the one for more special occasions. John gives you a soft smile from the other side of the table, and you take the seat next to him. The king gives you a scrutinizing look. Jade waves very happily at you.

“It’s so good to see you again!” she cries. 

“You too, princess. How are the studies going?” 

“Booooooring! But my self-defense training is way better. I’m quite the shot with the crossbow!” 

“I can believe it. You’ve always had a good eye for aim.” 

“You better learn to watch yourself, Dave.” 

You give her a half-smirk, along with a wink. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you, princess.” 

The king interrupts, asking you, “How were your travels with my son, David?”

You gulp, really not wanting to fuck this up. “Well, sire,” you reply. “John got a bit sick at one point, but was healed easily. Mishaps here and there, but I kept him safe. I wouldn’t break a pact with you, Your Highness.” 

He keeps staring at you. You cough awkwardly, thankful when you’ve given a goblet of wine, downing it in about six seconds. John hides a soft chuckle at you. 

“You broke the pact by coming home before I allowed it,” John’s father says next. 

“We came back for you and Princess Jaden’s safety,” you answer immediately. “I’d rather keep all three of you safe than just one. It was for a good reason and I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive the small crack in the pact and rather be thankful that I’m putting the royal family first. As I always have.” 

He’s silent again. You’re proud of yourself, so you allow yourself to loose some of your manners when the food comes, eating most of it with your fingers. But Jade and John have always done that too, and you’re resisting the urge to lean over and lick away some sauce that’s clinging to John’s lip. Has he always been this irresistible?

You realize, yes. Yes he has. 

John’s father doesn’t lighten up during dinner, but he doesn’t pester you with questions or accuse you with anything anymore. Instead you’re allowed to freely chat with Jade and John, talking about what you’ve all been doing, and John tells some stories about the bandits you and he ran into and the fun ball you attended. Jade chats about a hunting trip she went on and about a new boy she’s met, which causes both John and the king to go into a pestering protection mode. 

When dinner is finished, one of the guards nearby grabs your arm, ready to take you back to your room. But John blurts out that he can do it. The king stares at him, but then goes back to wiping his mouth with a napkin, not saying no. 

John takes your arm instead, leading you from the room and out into the hall.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” you sigh. “God, I’m sick of that guestroom.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I think he’ll let you out tomorrow. How’s that?”

“Perfect.” 

When you turn the corner to a new hallway, you make sure no one is around, then suddenly pin John to the wall and press your mouths together. He lets out a noise, then shoves on your shoulders, although he’s smiling. “What the hell?”

“It’s been around twenty-four hours since I’ve made you come, now give me some goddamn lip macking.”

He laughs, but then grabs your tunic and jerks you back in. You hold his wrists, pinning them to the wall as you kiss him, feeling a low moan come from his throat at the motion. You kiss him again and again for a good minute, pushing your tongue in to get a good taste of him a few times, and then leave him panting when you pull away. 

“Your dad will be expecting you back in there soon,” you say quietly. “I can get to my room by myself, don’t worry.” 

He nods, breathless. But he smiles. “Come to me again tonight?”

“I promise.” 

You kiss him once more, a hard and passionate one to last him until tonight. He smiles as he turns to leave, and you smack his ass once, and you laugh at his squeal.

You’re still got a tiny smirk playing on your lips on your way back to your room. Perhaps you’re finally earning the king’s trust again. Maybe he believes you when you say you didn’t kill your brother. 

In one of the castle’s corridor’s, you gaze out a large window, spotting an open meadow in the distant forest where the cemetery is placed. You want to go to his grave so badly. You never got a chance to go to his funeral, and you think some respects should be in order. Maybe John can go with you. You can see Dirk, and he can see his mother’s grave. He’d probably like that.

A heavy hand comes down on your shoulder, and you try to quell your natural instincts to turn and punch the stranger right in the throat. A tall knight is looking at you, gripping your arm, and the next thing you know another one is grabbing your other arm and dragging you away from the window.

You don’t protest. You’re not supposed to be around the castle without being watched by guards. They still think you’re a dangerous criminal.

They don’t take you back to your room though. They pass the hall, continuing farther back in the castle. 

“Hey, not to be rude, but my guestroom is the other way,” you speak up, trying not to trip since they’re walking so quickly. 

They don’t reply. 

“You guys new? Lost?”

Still nothing. You reach the sketchy back part of the castle that your brother used to tell you never to go to. The walls are bare, only a few torches to light the way since there are no windows back here. There are no rugs on the floor and there’s water leaking in some places. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck is going on?” you persist, nerves reacting when they start taking you down a spiral staircase. This definitely wasn’t your room. This definitely was not a nice looking guestroom, and you’re pretty sure you weren’t going to be playing chess any time soon.

You’re welcomed to the dungeon of the kingdom. Rows of cells, some of them full, greet you. One man screams that Hell’s Knight has come as soon as he sees your bright crimson eyes. You try to remain calm, catching your footing and simply following your captors that have taken you down here. 

There’s an empty area in the back that only has a wood stove burning and some tools on the walls, some empty chains and cuffs where no prisoners are hanging. You’re thrown to the floor, and you bite your lip to keep any sounds in. Your palms are only scratched, along with your elbow, but it’s nothing you haven’t suffered before. 

You can hear water dripping. Chains rattling. It’s dark and dim down here, some torches making the walls flicker with red and yellow. A prisoner in a cell nearby is cackling at you like a madman for some reason. 

Turning around to sit on your bottom, you look up at a tall man. His arms are crossed behind his back, and he’s wearing a lot of black. But you recognize his uniform, and you realize you’re face to face with the kingdom’s head knight. His eyes are just about as black as his clothes, his skin dark, and there’s a gruesome and slashing scar over his left eye. 

“Glad to see you’re back, Sir David,” he says. 

You brush some dirt off your sleeves with a bored shrug. “I’m not a knight anymore. You can take away the ‘sir’ part.” 

“Point is, you were caught getting touchy with a certain royal.”

You freeze inside, but you keep playing it cool and shrug once again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” the head knight snaps. “It was clear as day. You holding him and kissing his precious little lips. Just admit it.” 

Another shrug. “It didn’t happen.” 

The scarred man sighs and makes this nudge with his head. The other two knights behind him move forward to grasp your arms again, dragging you up and then slamming your back into a wall. You groan, being forced on the tips of your toes and spit on the ground as you regain some of your dignity. 

The head knight moves closer to you now that you’re pinned. His gloved hand holds your jaw, and fuck you want to bite his fucking fingers right off. 

“Tell me what you know about the person who wants to assassinate the royals,” he says.

“I’m not telling you shit,” you reply with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re telling me everything.”

Instead, you spit on his face. You expect him to slap you, and he does, but you can take it. Your cheek throbs as you meet his eyes again as you repeat more quietly, “I’m not telling you shit. You’re going to tell me why I’m here.”

“The king wanted me to interrogate you after he caught you smooching his son. He didn’t want me to hurt you, though. Thing is, the king isn’t here though, is he? Lucky for you, I don’t have a soft spot for anyone. So we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice, David.” 

You don’t think about it, you just can’t think of a witty way to say fuck you. So you just stare at him. 

Getting annoyed of your silence, the head knight leans close, his damn lips right on your ear. You cringe as he whispers, “Tell me what you know… about the assassination attempts. Tell me. What you know. About Dirk’s murder.” 

“Fuck you,” finally comes out, strong and pissed off. 

His fist flies into your gut. The cry that tears from your lips is inevitable, and you slump over as the pain waves through you. You just about puke. The knights who are holding your arms tug you up again, pushing your back to the wall. A bit of bile slips out over your lip, and you hate the pain that is probably showing on your face. 

“Well then,” the scarred stranger sighs. “I guess you want it the hard way.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dave doesn’t come that night.

You stay up until you hear rosters crowing from nearby farms. You don’t sleep. Rather just lie there, staring at your ceiling that is slowly growing brighter as the sun comes up in the distance. Just when you start to doze off, a loud screech makes your eyes split wide open.

Ari is on the end of your bed, having came in from the open window. She’s bobbing her head up and down, up and down, crowing at you again and again. Annoyed, you sit up and swat at her until she just shuts up.

You climb out of bed, getting dressed for the day. You can see Jade from the window, getting lessons from some of the knights. All princesses should be able to properly defend themselves. 

Down in the small dining room, your father is there, but he’s already eaten his breakfast. He looks at you when you come in, and you try to offer him a small smile. You know you should wait until you question it, but you can’t help it as you immediately ask, “Where is Dave?”

Instead of asking you what you mean he says, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I had my head knight do some questioning with him last night, but that’s all. He was supposed to be returned to his room unharmed as soon as possible. But he’s not there. I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean questioning?” you ask more slowly, taking a step closer to where he’s sitting. 

“Son, I saw you kissing him. Or rather, him kissing you.”

Your face is red and your heart is fast. You grip a hand to the back of one of the table chairs, trying to steady yourself. 

“I kissed back,” you say quietly.

“You’re lucky I’m not hanging him.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“No. I wouldn’t. Look, I thought about what he said at dinner last night. He’s right. He kept you safe. And by the stories you told, he kept you safe many times. And if you… kissed him… then you obviously care for each other. And he was a great knight when he used to be here. As brave as his brother. He came back to protect us all, and I understand that. I do.” 

Your heart slows down some, hand loosening on the chair. You don’t smile, but you can feel one tugging at your lips. “You do?”

He nods with a small smile of his own. “I do. I only wanted him questioned about what he knows about whoever is trying to kill you. So that we can have quality information to investigate further. I only wanted his help. I meant to talk to him and you myself, but I was much too busy last night and left it to my head knight.”

You’re a bit relaxed, but you’re still nervous because no one knows where Dave is. That’s what you’re really worried about.

“Where is he?” you ask again, knowing the answer. 

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I’m supposed to meet with Noir soon to discuss it.” 

“Who is Noir?”

“The old head knight decided to leave for reasons unknown. Sir Noir was sworn in while you were away.” 

Before you can ask anything else, a new man comes in, the one you expect to be this Noir man. When Dirk used to be head knight, you remember how he wore hues of gold and orange and red. This man wears only black, as if he’s walked out of the charcoal of Hell itself. His eyes match, and the large scar over one of his eyes intimidates you only slightly. You don’t trust him immediately. You don’t like the way he smiles slyly at you. 

He bows to your father, then to you. “Milord,” he greets. 

You only stare. Your father says simply, “What happened?” 

“He didn’t want to share with me, perhaps of trust issues. So I let him go. Although he wasn’t in his room in the morning, so I suppose he’s run off.” 

“Well…” the king sighs, “I guess he never was on our side.”

“No,” you blurt. “Ari is still here.”

They both look at you. Your father raises his brows while Noir narrows his. 

“Ari. His crow. She was in my room this morning. Dave is the only human she likes to be around. That means he’s still here.” 

“Like I said, we haven’t found him,” Noir says with a lower tone. “Nowhere to be seen. He even took a swing at me once while I was talking to him. I do say, sire, he is quite untrustworthy. He only did all this work for us because he wanted his freedom. Probably was using your son only for pleasure, a nice story to tell his other dirty street urchin friends.” 

“Oh, do shut up,” you snap.

“Jonathan,” the king says in a warning tone.

“What? Are you not listening to this? You think I’d kiss a man if he was really like that? Dad, you know me. I wouldn’t be that stupid. He saved my life. And Dirk saved his when he took him off the street, why would he kill his own brother? You know he’s good, you’re in denial!” 

A sad sigh comes out from his nose, but he lays a heavy hand over yours. Then he smiles and nods, turning to look at the head knight. “I expect you and your men to continue looking for him all day then. Perhaps he was overtaken by your advances and has simply gone out to air his mind. Maybe to see his brother’s grave. Check the cemetery.” 

Noir sighs heavily, glaring at you very lightly. “Yes, sir.” With an almost forced bow, he leaves and exits the room. 

When he’s gone, you say quietly to your father, “What’s his deal?”

“A bit rough around the edges, but a very skilled man. He claims to be a better fighter than the Striders.” 

“Doubt it,” you scoff.

“Either way,” he speaks a bit more sternly, “I’m sure we’ll find David soon. He’d probably trust to share his information rather with you and me than a knight he does not know. I should have thought of that first. He’ll be back soon, no worries.” 

“All right,” you cave. 

 

You decide to search for Dave yourself. You check the cemetery like your father suggested, but it’s empty except for a few soldiers that are always present. You visit your mother’s grave and pray for a sign or some advice. 

You go to Dirk’s grave next. His own broach is on it, along with the royal head knight tunic that he used to wear, draped over it. It says loving brother on the grave. Brave knight. It’s all true, and it saddens you that Dave could never come to the funeral. It had been large, many people from the kingdom crowding in such a small area and straining to hear the priest’s speech. 

You thank him for bringing Dave into your life, and then head back to the castle. Ari is in the air, following you. She’s been screeching non-stop. You remember when that assassin tried to kill you with an arrow, the way she had been crowing and crowing frantically from above, and it makes you nervous. 

On the way back to the castle, Jade runs to you from the training fields, a large smile on her face. “Hello, brother! Where were you?”

“Looking for Dave. Have you seen him? He didn’t return to his room last night and hasn’t been seen all day.” 

She frowns as she loops her arm with yours, walking beside you. “I can’t say that I have seen him. Did you come from the cemetery?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… Maybe he couldn’t take staying cooped up and has gone out to get some air and relax.” 

“Ari should have gone with him then.”

She glances up at the crow that is still flying overhead. “Well… maybe she stayed behind to look after you since he’s away.”

“She crows when there’s danger. He would have came back to make sure I’m okay.” 

“I don’t know then, John… But he’s Dave Strider! Nothing can break him down. He swore to always protect you, and I’m sure he’ll be back sooner than you think.”

“I think I should promise to protect him now. He’s done too much protecting of his own.” 

“You’re becoming a young and wise king, Johnny.” 

“Pft. King. Right.”

“You don’t want to, do you?”

You shrug.

“I think it’d be grand. I have so many great ideas for the kingdom. Ways to create equality. I love going to father’s meetings and I love my training and hanging out with the knights as much as you do. We could spar sometime! I would love to be a single queen. Damn female roles…” 

You scoff with a smile, patting her hand. “I think you would be a much better queen than I a king.”

“Oh, you flatter me. I’m going to go spar again. I’ll let you know if I see Dave, all right?”

“Thank you, Jade.”

She smiles and kisses your cheek before running off again. You smile as you watch her go, then glance up at Ari who is still crowing and flying in circles over your head. When you enter the castle, you continue to see her in windows, and it makes your gut churn in nervousness. 

But no matter how much you look, you can’t find Dave. 

 

You don’t sleep, but Ari wakes you out of a daze once again in the morning. You swat at her once again, although she doesn’t shut up this time, and you’re so nervous you might throw up. 

You get dressed half-assed, and Ari sits on your shoulder all day.

You don’t speak during lunch. Jade gives you sad looks and your father assures you that his knights are hard at work still looking for him. He tells you the bird shouldn’t be at the table, but when you try to shoo Ari away she just comes and sits on your shoulder again, occasionally nipping at your ear in annoyance. 

You leave the meal early and start searching every corridor and room in the castle once again. Ari keeps annoying you. 

Eventually, you come out from checking the library and someone is waiting for you. You don’t recognize him, but he’s dressed in knights clothing. He’s got a mess of black hair, and he’s a few inches shorter than you, an expression on his face that seems a bit grim. 

“Prince,” he says quietly.

You pause, looking him over. “Can I help you?”

“Noir is my mentor.” 

“All right…”

“I heard you’ve been looking for Dave.” 

“Yes.”

“I think he’s done something to him.”

“Where is he?” 

He shrugs lightly. “I’m not sure. I’m new at the castle. Noir said the only way he’d let me ever become a knight is if I did whatever he said. I’m just a goddamn puppet to him. Look, he’s up to no good.” He shifts awkwardly, moving closer to you to keep his voice down. “He’ll torture and kill me if he knows I’m telling you this.”

“What is your name?” you whisper.

He shifts once again, obviously nervous. You know he doesn’t want to tell you, scared of his mentor. You would be too.

“I will never speak of this conversation to anyone,” you promise. “As your prince, tell me your name.”

“Vantas. Karkat.” 

“I will do my best to free you of his control over you if you help me find Dave.” 

“Yes, right. I think he knows that Dave knows too much. That’s why he has him.” 

“Just… help me find him.”

He nods. “I’ll come to your room tonight when Noir and everyone else is sleeping. We’ll look together. Perhaps that stupid bird of his can lead us.”

“Thank you.” 

With another nod, he gives a lazy bow before leaving. He looks nervous, searching over his shoulders to make sure no one heard the conversation between you two. Ari is quiet now, dipping her head and pecking at your head a bit, but lightly. 

 

At dinner, you can’t stop fidgeting. Jade keeps a peppy attitude, and your father does his best to smile for both of you, even though you know he’s nervous. He’s a brave king, and you look up to him because of that. You wish you had the guts to be a good king like him. When his father died, he was crowned king at only eighteen, and had to lead his first war when he was only your age. It was short, but he holds scars, and you wish you had that kind of bravery. 

Yet he still has deep laugh lines, and smile that doesn’t falter easily. 

When dinner is over and Jade leaves to go do her studies, you let your gaze fall and ask, “Do you think there will be a war?”

“What makes you think that?” your father asks. 

“The assassination attempts. Dave thinks someone is trying to start chaos, and then that’s when a rebellion will start in the kingdom. There will be so much chaos, and they want the royals dead so that the mastermind of all this can take over and lead the land.”

The king sighs, but that smile is still there, very gentle. “No matter what, the Egberts can’t be taken down that easily. Besides, even if there is a war, which I highly doubt there will be, we will come out victorious. As always.” 

You try to mirror his smile, nodding a bit. “Good.” 

He stands up and ushers you to do the same. When you do, he hugs you close, and you grip him back, sighing. You haven’t hugged your father since the day you came back to the castle, and you like the close relationship you have with him. You’re a lucky person.

“I’m really, really proud of you, son,” he says. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

He leaves a kiss on your forehead before excusing you. When you leave to your bedroom for the night, you’re a bit less nervous for once. 

 

Karkat doesn’t say much when he comes to wake you. You weren’t sleeping anyway, and there are dark bruises showing up under your eyes to show it. Ari comes with you, not making any noise. Instead of searching, Karkat seems to know exactly where he’s going. 

So you ask him. “Where are we going?”

“I saw Noir going this way around sunset,” he whispers. 

You say nothing, rather just following him. You both go to the back of the castle, a place where not many go. It’s where prisoners are usually taken after their trials, or where criminals are kept before their trials. It’s dark and gloomy there, as if you’ve entered a world where everything is dead.

There’s a staircase that descends into more darkness. Karkat keeps his footsteps quiet and light, so you follow in suit, running your hand along the wall as you circle downwards. You’ve never been in the dungeons of the castle. You’re allowed to, but you’ve always been a bit nervous about it. Your father made sure not to dwell in torture practices, only if the safety of the kingdom was at stake, but you still remember that it’s always been a little scary in this area.

When you were ten, you decided to try and check the dungeons out. When you got close to the staircase, you hear someone screaming in agony, and you ran off and slept on your dad’s bed with him for the night in fear. 

You’re not so scared now. You feel strong, a little pissed, and excited all at the same time. You just want Dave back. 

You reach the prison, the place lined with cell in the large area. A few of them are filled, and some of the prisoners even nod in respect to you, eating from food trays. The condition isn’t too bad, just a little dark and a bit chilly, but all the cells seem to be filled with blankets. 

A few soldiers notice you, causing you and Karkat to both stop. You gulp and straighten your back, putting on a face of authority. 

“What are you doing down here?” one soldier asks. 

“Checking conditions,” you reply simply. “You both are excused.”

They exchange glances, not moving. 

“I said you’re excused,” you snap, just about yelling. 

“Sorry, milord.” 

They both bow and leave, heading for the steps. You and Karkat look at each other for a second and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Take Ari,” you say. “Stay by the steps and keep watch, I’ll search. Okay?”

“Sure.” 

You force the crow onto Karkat’s shoulder, staying where you are as you watch him walk away. Then you face the rows of cells, walking slowly and checking each one. You turn down a hallway to another area, and then see an open and wide room that’s flickering with the lights of a small fire.

Your heart is hurting, or maybe it’s your lungs. Whatever it is, it still hurts. Your palms are sweaty, but you walk in anyway. 

He’s there, but it doesn’t look like him. 

“Dave…” 

He’s sitting against the wall, wrists up in chains. He’s full of dirt and dried blood, head dipped in loss of strength. You see his clothes in a pile in the corner so that he’s only been left in his trousers, but those might as well be only rags now. There are burns on his arms and chest and a few other wounds that you’re too scared to ask how he got. 

Shaking and almost hyperventilating, you go to him and kneel between his spread and limp legs, pressing your hands to each side of his jaw. “Dave…?” You lift his heavy head. His lip is very badly split, his face bruised, and there’s clotted dried blood on one of his ears. His eyes are just barely opened, and you see his eyelids moving a tiny bit, as if he’s trying to wake up and come back to your voice. 

“Dave, please. It’s me.” 

“I…”

“Look at me, Dave, please. Wake up. We’re going to get you out of here.” 

“Didn’t… I didn’t…” he breathes, head lolling in your hands. 

“Shh, shh. Please, Dave. You have to wake up more, listen to me. Please,” you beg, starting to feel the tears spill over. “Tell me what they did to you, Dave. Tell me what they did. What happened?”

“Tell,” he murmurs. “Didn’t tell them…”

“Tell them what? Dave, what did they do to you?”

“Tonight,” he says more strongly.

“Tonight, what?”

“He’s gonna. Tonight. John…” 

You still don’t understand what he’s talking about. But you can’t stand to see him like this, so broken and bloody. You pull his head in against his chest, shushing him and petting his hair. You can see lashes across his back, along with more burns, and it just makes you hurt inside even more. 

He moans in pain against you, and you can’t even imagine what’s been done to him. You hear some yelling from the main floor, and then you hear Ari screeching from the stairwell. You need to get Karkat to help you get Dave out of here, but you’re afraid to leave him, especially when he’s like this. 

You need to get him out of here. 

You sit up, turning and calling Karkat’s name. Dave continues mumbling to himself, filling you with dread and fear. He sounds scared, frantic, but he can’t seem to summon the strength to actually speak. 

Fast footsteps echo, and then you turn to see Karkat standing over you, and he looks very scared too. There’s still yelling going on upstairs.

“What’s happening?” you ask. 

“I think we should stay here for a bit,” he says.

“What? Why? We need to get Dave out. He needs a healer, he’s hurt.”

“No. The king has been murdered.” 

“Tonight…” Dave keeps whispering. “He’s gonna… tonight…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward speech.

You swore you’d do anything for John. You’d take an arrow for him, walk through any storm for him. 

But what Noir did to you, you would not repeat for anyone’s sake. 

You remember some of the other prisoners down there yelling and begging Noir to stop because they couldn’t listen to your screams anymore. You think it might have egged him on. The first night it was only the lashes, though. Your back and legs mostly, and you can only pray that they’re not infected now.

He branded you. Like an animal. You’re burned in other places, but that one was the worst, stinging and throbbing in agony on your hip. 

But you wouldn’t speak. Someone as sick as him didn’t deserve to hear the truth, or hear what you knew about him. The only answers he would ever get out of you were a few weak “fucks yous” and some screaming. During the second day, you were just hoping the torture would finally kill you. 

On the second day, they dunked you in water. They held your head under until you were choking, then yanked you out and would ask you the same questions over and over again, but sometimes you wouldn’t even have time to answer because you were coughing water out of your lungs. When you eventually could speak, they shoved you back in again. 

It’s not like you were going to tell them anyway. 

They put you against the wall again, and your wrists were bruising and slowly getting cut by the cuffs. You wondered how long John stayed up, waiting for you. You wondered how long you had been down there, because there certainly wasn’t any sunlight to let you know how much time was passing. Even the prisoners in the cells got to leave sometimes to get some light and fresh air. 

Noir had knelt down in front of you, brandishing a sharp knife. You weren’t afraid when he set the tip of the blade against your bottom lip. You just stared at him, waiting for his stupid, fucking little speech that he was going to say to make him sound all high and mighty. 

“You kiss the prince with these pretty lips?” he asked. 

You blinked tiredly. Your back was hurting from your lashes. Your hip was stinging from burns. Your throat hurt from all the small drownings you had just received. You definitely were not in the mood to answer stupid questions. 

“Nothing to be proud of anyway,” he said. 

“Kissed his dick, too,” you coughed out with a half smirk. 

He ripped the knife down, right through your lip, and your cry was a short one. Blood ran down over your chin, and you could feel it literally just pumping out. While you tried to regain some of your strength and calm your shock, Noir gripped your hair and slammed your head back against the wall, bruising your skull. 

“All you’ve done is try to protect them. It’s useless now. You were the only one worthy of being my opponent,” he said softly. “Some say I’m better than a Strider. The only one worth fighting. But unlike Striders, I don’t have a soft spot for ones I love, which is why I’m better than them. Which is why I killed one.” 

No. Nonononono no no NO. 

You gasped as he slammed your head back again since he realized he was losing your focus. You met his eyes, those black eyes of death, and every piece of anger and hate in you was ripping free at him. But you couldn’t do anything. You were worthlessly at his mercy. 

“You have a soft spot for the prince. That makes you weak. Which means I could easily beat you at any moment. Hell, I could kill you right now. I won’t lie, it was hard to kill your brother. He fought better than anyone else I’ve ever fought. But you walked in, and he was only focused on keeping you safe, and I ran him right through.” He chuckled, and it made your insides feel like ice. “You were in too much shock to move, so I knocked you out. And you stupid kid, you don’t even remember. Left your own sword in his chest. You’ve been out running and hiding, and here I’ve been. Right by the prince. Could have killed him at any second.” 

“Fuck you,” came out, because it’s all you could do in that weak state. The blood coming from your mouth hit his cheek, but he only wiped it away and then smiled at you. 

“I won’t kill him yet,” he stated. “No, no, no. He’s what makes you weak. If I want you weak, I need him for you. Just for a bit. Don’t you worry, David. Tonight, the king dies.”

“No…”

“Everyone will sleep with care. And I will stand over him and take this country’s leader.” 

“No. No.” 

He proceeded to pet your hair, almost with care. As if he truly felt something for you, and it made you sick. You wanted to puke right there. But you were probably going to puke anyway when he continued with his torture. You didn’t believe he was doing it for information anymore. Only because he hated you.

 

It's not so bad anymore. There are still dull throbs in you, sitting in your body and growing smaller. You sense a presence around you. There's the smell of incense in the air. Something warm on your cheek. To see if you can control your muscles, you let out a soft hum. You can feel yourself making the noise, and you can hear it yourself.

“Wake up, dumbass,” is something else you hear after.

Opening your eyes is a struggle. It’s hard and frustrating, but you find bright lights leaking into your vision, and you start clenching and unclenching your hands so that the movement keeps you awake and aware. You’re in some type of bedroom, propped up on some pillows. The sun shines in through the window and Ari is sitting quietly on the windowsill. A familiar face is peering at you with a soft expression.

“What’re you doin’ here…?” you mutter.

Kanaya smiles from her spot, sitting crisscross beside you on the bed you’re laid on. Before she can answer, you ask instead, “Where am I?”

“John’s room. Rose had a vision that something terrible was going to happen here at the castle, so we both decided to come. We thought we had come too late, but it seems I was just in time to heal you.”

You glance down, seeing your wounds dressed, and some of them aren’t even bandaged because they’re already healing. You don’t know how Kanaya does it, but you do not doubt her healing abilities of sylph-like properties. Nothing hurts anymore either, just a bit of soreness when you shift in a bad position.

“Where’s John?” you ask.

“He’s got important things to do.”

“What do you mean?”

Memories are coming back. You remember those words Noir hissed in your ear. You bolt upright, and then cringe in pain as the scabs of your back wounds break and split. Kanaya scolds you with a harsh shush, pushing on your shoulders to make you lie back down again. “Rest, Dave, please. You still have to stay here for a few days.” 

“The king. John’s dad. What happened? Noir told me…”

She looks so sad and grave, like a screen of sorrow was draped upon her face. You stop your words because of it. Your heart drops in realization.

“No…”

“He’s gone. John was sworn in as king the morning of his murder.”

“It was Noir. He told me he was doing all of this. He told me everything while he fucking tortured me.”

“We know,” she says sweetly, trying to calm you down. “We know. He fled, though. Many of the soldiers are on the look for him, and there’s lots of investigating being done. He’ll be found.”

“He killed Dirk,” you whisper.

“We know.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

“Jesus…”

The door creaks open and some small relief fills you when you see Rose. It doesn’t fix everything, but Rose and Kanaya are like your moms away from home, and something about being near them makes you relax and quell your anger.

“You’re up,” she says. “Good. How are you feeling?”

“Slightly alive,” you reply with a shrug.

She comes in and lays a palm on your forehead. You let her, knowing she won’t stop until she knows you’re healing up well. She checks some of your wounds, and then touches your lip, making you wince. She tells you that you’ll have quite the scar there, and in other places, but you don’t really care.

“I’ll tell John you’re awake.”

She kisses your forehead, and you try to give her a smile before she leaves. Something to make her calm down. Rose is wise and strong, but you know she can hurt inside, just like any other human. You’d be a bad brother if you didn’t try to make her relax.

You try to relax yourself for a bit, lying your head back and closing your eyes. Kanaya moves to work at her table, probably making you medicine. You later feel her kiss your temple and say, “I made some stuff for the pain. Drink it when you feel like you may need it, okay?”

“Thank you.”

She brushes some of your hair back and then you listen to her footsteps as she leaves the room, the door closing with a small thud. Ari is ruffling her feathers in the window. Your wounds start to ache a bit, but you refuse to drink the medicine that was left for you because you feel the need to tough it out. It fuels your need for revenge.

You’re dozing off again. Sleep sounds so good. But the door creaks as it opens again, so you try to lift your eyelids. You’re not surprised to see John. He looks exhausted and pale, his hair in a different mess than its usual mess. You expect him to run and jump on you, or smile because you’re okay, but he just looks so depressed and dreary.

He closes the door, then turns to lock it. He approaches you almost carefully, as if moving too fast will harm you. The bed moves as he gets on, scooting in close beside you and cupping a hand to your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. His skin isn’t so warm anymore. It’s really cold.

The first thing he does is kiss you. Not too hard, because you still have your split and wounded lip, but God, his kiss is so caring. He’s slow and loving, fingers brushing through your hair and trying to fix everything with just a few soft touches. When he parts, his forehead stays on yours, his eyes closed and his breath soft on your lips. You stare at his eyelids and into his broken soul, reaching up to lay a hand on his chest. You want to melt your comfort into him. 

Finally, his eyes open and whispers a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you manage back after a gulp.

“How you feeling?”

“Not too bad.”

“That’s good.”

He sighs softly, lying his head on the pillow next to you. He keeps caressing your skin, then gently plays with your hair that lulls you immediately. You don’t know if you should say it. He’s probably still getting over it. But his safety is at risk—not that it hasn’t already been, but it’s pretty serious now.

“So what happened to him?”

“A blade through his heart while he slept,” John replies, already knowing who you’re talking about. He already seems like he’s in pain, but speaking about it doesn’t seem to pain him more. As if he’s faced it and is okay with the hurt that comes along with it.

Then he continues, “We’ll have his funeral in a week. Now that we know who’s doing all of this, Noir’s going to lay low for a while. He’ll come out of hiding later. Right now, we all need to just prepare and recuperate. Especially you. Okay?”

“Sure.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, kissing against your neck. His fingertip is running along the large cut in your lip, but it’s so gentle that it doesn’t hurt, only makes the agony go away. You shift only a bit, trying to drape a hand over his middle and rub your own fingers on his side, anything to sooth him.

“So… King Jonathan, huh?”

“Hm,” is his only reply.

Silence again. You both almost fall asleep. Although his body is colder now, you both warm up since you’re pressed against one another. He moves later, cradling your head to his chest instead, making all the pain go away as he plays with your hair.

After a while he kisses your hair and whispers, “What did he do to you?”

“A lot,” you murmur. You blink, just about flash backing, and flinch.

“Shouldn’t have asked, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

As time passes, people come for John’s aid, but Rose shoos them off and tells them Jade is in charge. For the day and night, it’s just you and John on that bed. He helps feed you and clean your wounds and shower you in affection, even when you can tell how heavy his heart is. 

He sleeps with his head on your stomach that night, one of the only places you aren’t injured. You play with his hair and whisper lullabies and sonnets. Your heart feels as heavy as his. 

 

You’re strong enough for the funeral. The entire kingdom is there. The streets are shut down, full of people. Even the street kids are there, standing next to high-class nobles like they grew up together. 

It doesn’t rain in sorrow. It’s a bright day, and birds are alive with song, and you think the old king would have liked it this way. You stand next to John at the very front and you hold his hand where no one can see. Jade cries, but John doesn’t shed a single tear as he holds her and pets her hair, listening to the priest’s speech.

It lasts three hours. Then prayers are recited and everyone has a moment of silence for the passed king. It’s a silence that you’ve never heard before. There are obvious soft sounds that are consistent, but it’s also an entire city that has put aside all differences and personal problems to respect someone that has led them through years and years of peace and prosperity. 

John has to give a speech too. You let his hand go as he stands before the crowd. Before his people. He pushes his crown up, and you can see his fingers shaking as his eyes rise to look over the people that now look to him for faith and guidance. You think he might just throw up. 

But when he meets your eyes, you smile. It hurts, and you shouldn’t smile, but you do it for him. He lets out a deep breath and faces the people again. 

And then his voice rings in the promises he’s making as their new king. He tells them of what a brave man his father was, and all the things he’s done for this land. About his old hopes and dreams for his kingdom, stories he would tell. There are people placed on small stages all the way down into the city where the crowd flows, and they repeat John’s words, letting the whole kingdom know of what he’s saying.

You’ve never heard John talk like that. It’s like you’re looking at his father, but in a much younger version, and someone who is growing wiser and wiser. For once, you’re looking up to John as everyone behind you is. For once, you see King Jonathan, and not the John you grew up with. 

There’s another moment of silence, everyone’s heads lowered in respect. You see John lift his head first. Then he speaks again, loud and clear, “Jackson Noir killed my father.” 

You can hear the voices of the people far behind you who are supposed to repeat his words. It gives him an eerie echo. 

“And he killed Diedrick Strider,” he continues. He lets that sink in, and you hear a wave of whispers start up behind you in the crowd. You can feel eyes on your back, and it makes your wounds flare up with dull throbbing. 

“His younger brother is innocent! Noir has caused many people to suffer without them knowing it was his doing, and he’s snuck his way into MY kingdom and has murdered MY father and my best friend’s family. And we will find him, and he will be brought to justice.” 

There’s a pause, and John’s almost breathing heavily, as if realizations are just slapping him in the face over and over again; as if everything that’s happened in these last few months are slowly lifting off his chest and allowing him to breathe. 

“As your new king, we will find him,” John says, voice not so loud, but still strong. “We will find him. And with the help of someone who has been wronged for far too long… I’d like to present yours and my new head knight, David Diedrick Strider.” 

Your breath catches, eyes going up to look at John again. Everyone is staring at you. Everyone is talking about you. John is waiting for you. Rose’s hand rests on your back and she whispers in your ear, “Go, knight.” 

Forcing yourself, you move and approach the small stage that’s been set up for John, putting him higher than everyone else. You gaze up in his blue eyes, and he stares at you with acceptance and trust. His hand moves to the few crests and ribbons that are pinned to his royal garbs. 

“Kneel,” he says. 

You try to make everyone else around you disappear. It’s just you and John, and you’re taking over your role again. You drop to one knee, hiding the slight soreness your injuries give you. 

He gives the same speech he did when you were sixteen. Giving you your duties and what you’re supposed to swear to do. Appointing you as a knight. As his knight. You zone out, still in shock over all of this and just listening to his voice, and you smile to yourself, and you pray your brother is here and watching. You don’t have to wonder if he’s proud. You can literally feel his pride swelling up in your chest. 

“Do you swear to fulfil these duties to your king and to your people?” you hear John say. 

“I do so solemnly swear,” you reply. 

“Rise.” 

His hand is out, and you take it as you bring yourself back to your feet, stepping onto the stage with him, kissing his fingers while holding his gaze. He moves to take a ribbon from his pocket, pinning it onto your tunic over your heart. 

“For everything you’ve done,” he says. 

Then he gives you the Egbert family crest, placing it beside the ribbon. 

“For me.” 

And then he takes out the Strider crest. It still has a hole in it from the arrow that almost killed him. Before he puts it on you, you catch his hands and take it from him. Then you pin it to his own breast with a quiet, “For you.” 

He gives you the softest of a smile, and it’s the first one you’ve seen in a week. Because it’s real. 

It’s an acceptable moment for him to take your hand in his, and you feel a chill on your fingers from his father’s ring that he’s wearing. It was his great grandfather’s when the Egbert line took over the throne, and has been passed down through generations, and you can only imagine the load of work that comes with bearing the piece of jewelry. 

John turns you around, and you finally face the crowd that’s been watching you. It stretches beyond the cemetery, beyond the trees. To the castle courtyard and to the market of the kingdom. To the streets you used to sleep in, and the street where you were saved. 

And they all know of your innocence. 

John squeezes your hand. As the pride in your chest grows, you watch as the people, row by row, fall and bow. They’re on their knees, side by side in equality, all faith presented willingly in trusting vulnerability. 

They bow to their new king, and they bow to you.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, Karkat!

Dave gets nightmares sometimes. 

He doesn’t get them like you used to about that one guy who almost killed you with the pillow. He flashbacks into them, as if it’s happening again. Or at least he says. He doesn’t wake up screaming and sweating. He just kind of gasps, waking you up, and you both turn to hold onto the other and you sooth him until he’s better.

King duties are mind numbing. You listen, but you’re not there. Hours and hours a day of meetings and talking to different groups of soldiers about their quest to find Noir. Dave follows you around all day, and his hand caresses your leg under the table when the long meetings begin to make you want to just give up and collapse. 

For better safety, Jake and Jane and a few others from the Crocker household come to the castle. Jake joins your small group of higher leveled leaders that go off to be in charge of their own groups of soldiers. Karkat doesn’t like him, but since you’re all fighting for the same cause, you put up with each other. One of the other higher knights, Latula, is a bit loud and enthusiastic, but she knows what she’s supposed to do and still takes her job seriously. Jade joins your groups too. Your father used to be very overprotective, and Jade was only allowed to train in combat because of self defense. But you’ve abolished that, and if she really insists, you would allow her to fight in battle if she wants. 

Issues in the town have started. More things are being stolen, more violence breaking out, but it’s not people from your kingdom. They’re all followers of Noir, screaming nonsense about a New World and how Noir is God and other things that just makes you either confused or very worried. If they continue this way, you know something big is going to happen. They’ll all go crazy at once, and they’ll hurt you’re people. As much as you care about the people who live in your castle, you make sure to place a large quantity of your soldiers out into your kingdom to keep your civilians safe. 

The stitches on Dave’s lip finally come out, along with a few more of his wounds. Luckily, they don’t hurt much thanks to Kanaya’s medicine, but you can tell they occasionally irk them. Every time you kiss him you can feel the large scar. You brush your lips and fingers over it when you both lie silently in your bed at night. It’s still red, and it reaches all the way down to his chin. 

You hate that he’s scarred. 

 

Three weeks later, Dave is perfectly healed and no one has been killed. The only issues are the rioters that keep unsettling your kingdom. Some are captured and brought back for questioning, but not many of them speak. You refuse to torture them, though. You consider light torture, something subtle to scare the information out of them, but Dave won’t let you. And you know why, so you listen to him. 

Everything collected is getting you no where, and one day you feel like snapping. You’re in a study, sitting at the end of a long table, listening to Latula talk about some information she got out of one of your prisoners. It won’t do much good. Karkat is complaining and saying we should send more troops into the kingdom for a search. Jade tells him to watch his language. 

Another knight says one of your prisoners killed themselves. The death is too much. There’s too much, and you’ve experienced too much of it, and you know you’ll experience more. 

You shove your chair back and stand, leaving the room with a door slam. You can’t take it anymore, you don’t know what to do. They give you information, and you’re supposed to do things based off of it. You studied all your life for being king, and you can’t goddamn do it. You’re not your father, and you never will be. 

You run your hands back through your hair, pacing and breathing shaky. Seeing you in distress, servants and others steer clear of you, leaving you in an empty corridor that only echoes your slight hyperventilation and quick steps. You don’t want to do this anymore. You can’t.

“John?” 

“Not right now, Dave,” you hiss at him. 

He closes the door to the meeting room, approaching you. He says your name again, trying to gently take your arm, but you slap him away in an angry way you’ve done, turning your back to him to start pacing again.

He doesn’t go away, though. He just stands there and crosses his arms, leaning against a pillar and watching you. He knows you too well, because after more nervous pacing, you go to him and break his arms apart, shoving your body in against his chest with a quivering whimper, and you hate yourself for being so weak right now. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you mutter in pain. 

“I know.” His arms wrap around you, cradling your head into the crook of his neck. You close your eyes and breathe him in, nuzzling the skin there while your fingers clutch into his shirt until your knuckles are white.

“I’m not good enough. I’m not my dad.”

“Shoosh…” 

“Dave, I can’t do this, I can’t.”

“Shh. Stop it. We’ve made it this far. Just a while longer. It will be stressful, but it’s going to end one day soon, I promise. Then we’ll relax, and everything will be okay. I promise.” 

You try to listen, but it’s hard. Then again, it’s Dave, and that’s the only reason you are listening. You stand with him for a while, letting him hold you and rock gently back and forth, quelling all of the boiling emotions inside of you. 

“Finish this meeting. And then we’ll go to your room and just forget about this for the rest of the day. Okay?” 

You nod against him. “Okay.” 

 

You’re tired. You’re exhausted and spent. But at least you don’t feel like jumping off of the castle roof right now. To relax your nerves, Dave takes you out drinking, Karkat and Jake also tagging along. You’re all hidden in cloaks, not wanting to be recognized, but this night out in the kingdom with some good ale and close friends is exactly what you needed. 

You and Dave sit side by side in a small booth in the back corner of the bar, Karkat and Jake across from you. He’s not much of a drinker, so he keeps taking tiny sips so that he won’t look like a wus in front of Dave. 

“So,” you say at random, looking down at your mug, “I see you hanging out with Jade a lot.”

Karkat throws you a weird look, as if he might throw up. But he’s still angry. Throwing up angrily, that is his expression basically. 

“She’s, a, uh… really smart girl,” he says. “What the fuck is it to you?”

You shrug. “She’s my sister, that’s all. Being wary.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Never said I didn’t. I’d trust no one more as her bodyguard. I’m just wary of who she gets into a romantic relationship with.”

“Rom—what?” he coughs. 

Jake lets out a hearty laugh while Dave chuckles softly saying, “Jeez, Vantas.”

“Hey, you know what, shut up, Strider. There’s nothing romantic between us! I’m just her bodyguard, that’s all.” 

“Yeah. Nothing ever happens between royals and knights,” Dave says with a small grin, his hand running up your thigh under the table. 

“Exactly,” Karkat sighs. Then he shifts awkwardly and continues, “But, like… could one be punished for doing that though?” 

“I’m not against it,” you say, giving him a little eyebrow pop. 

Karkat seems to be blushing, and he’s no longer afraid of his drink as he greedily chugs it down. Jake claps him on the back with his laughter again saying, “I don’t think now is a great time for romance anyway, given the bumbling and bustling about this Noir fellow. Best stay safe until it’s all over.”

“Now is not a time to talk about him,” Dave says. “Rather, you’re one for talking about not budding romances. Like I don’t catch you ogling Jane all hours of the day.”

Now it’s Jake’s turn to turn red. He leans on one elbow, pointing at Dave who is simply smiling as he scolds, “Hey now, that’s not true. She’s the one making eyes at me! Like John said, it’s simply a bodyguard and a royal.” 

“I think it’s the perfect combination for romance,” you say. You try not to flinch when Dave’s hand squeezes your thigh. 

“Look who’s talking,” Karkat snorts. “And let me guess, you and your head knight are getting down and dirty in the sheets every night?”

“Not every night,” you say, but everyone laughs and takes it as a joke. You’re biting your lip so you won’t giggly too much and Dave just looks at you with an amused expression of disbelief, shaking his head and finally letting out a tiny chuckle. 

After more talking—nothing about Noir coming up again—Karkat announces he has to leave since he’s meeting another friend at night. You all bid him farewell as he takes his leave, and then the rest of you continue chatting, Jake doing most of it since he’s got a mouth like that. But soon enough he says he has to get back to Jane, in which you and Dave give him teasing smirks. He scolds you both for being immature, then takes off. 

You and Dave don’t say much when they’re gone. You lean in against his side while his arm drapes around you, both of you having another mug of ale. As the bar empties, it’s only you two in the dark corner, and you both share soft kisses out of view from anyone else. His scent and breath just intoxicates you, making you forget anything bad. You run your tongue along the scar up his chin, leading you to his lips, leaving a longer and more passionate kiss there. 

“It’s getting dark,” Dave mumbles against your lips a while later. “We should head back to the castle.”

“I’m no done with you here,” you mutter back, trailing kisses down his neck.

“We’ll be seen. If we go back, I’ll let you devour me in bed, how’s that?”

You nip his neck, loving the flinch you give him, and then smile up in his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.” 

 

Your chest feels constricted, but it’s out of pleasure. You’re panting hard, and Dave’s hard breathing is right in your eat, hot and heavy, and holy shit you’re hoping that doesn’t make you hard again. 

“You all right?” he asks breathlessly. His body is flush on top of yours, bare groins together, your chest lightly heaving for air against his. 

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you make a small, “Mm-hmm.” 

“Good,” he purrs, nibbling on your ear. 

You close your eyes and tilt your head, letting him have some after-sex licking time. Apparently he’s got an addiction to your skin or something (not that you mind.) You just let out soft sounds of pleasure and content as he lazily runs his tongue along your neck, kissing and nuzzling. 

Then he tires out, just like you already are, and lays against your side with his head by yours. You tilt your face to him, holding one of his hands against your chest and sighing as how good you feel right now. 

“It’s better when we don’t have to keep quiet, hm?” Dave says quietly.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “Much better. Can I ask you something, Dave?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What is this?”

“What is what?” he mumbles.

“Us?”

“Well, you called it romance at the bar.”

“Well, is that what you think?”

“’Course.”

“What about what we were saying about royals and bodyguards being together?”

“What about it?”

“Is it bad?”

“What do you think? Are you unhappy with me?”

“No, I’m happy. I am. As happy as I can be at a time like this, but… I just want to know if this is it, I guess…”

He sits up on one elbow, realizing I’m not giving up on this topic. His head rests on his palm, his hand moving against my chest and stomach that’s still a bit of a mess after what he just did. 

“You want to know if I love you,” he says very simply. 

Caught by surprise, you stare at him with an open mouth. He raises and eyebrow. So you shrug. “I ‘unno.”

“I do, but I’m not going to say it.”

“What?” you pout.

“I’ll say that I love you after I end Noir. I’ll use your full name and enclose you in my arms while I say it, all that fluffy shit you swoon for.” 

You let out a short sigh, brushing the back of your hand along his cheek. “Is killing him all you care about?”

“Only because he’s a threat to you.” 

“Fine. So, after? You’ll say it?” 

“Promise.” 

“Good.” 

 

You’re Karkat Vantas, and fucking Princess Jaden is holding your goddamn hand. You’re totally keeping your cool, this is completely fine. Except that she has warm hands and that she’s really pretty and—oh God, she’s smiling at you! 

“Pretty night, wouldn’t you say?” 

You gulp and nod. “Yeah.” 

It’s the middle of the night, but Jade insisted on going for a walk through the gardens. You can’t stop her and have no right to, so the least you could do was accompany her. You made some stupid shit up about holding her hand so that you could keep her close from any bad guys. She had only chuckled and took it without hesitation. 

The moon is high and full, sending a soft light across the flowers in the garden. Jade stops often to run her delicate hands across petals sometimes, but you’re not impatient with her pace. You’ve only become a knight recently, but you’ve been around the castle for quite a while. You’ve admired the princess from a distance, and you notice that her hands are rougher with blisters in the spring when she does a lot of gardening, but they’re smooth and soft when winder and fall come around.

“You don’t mind being out so late, do you, Karkat?” she asks.

“No, it’s all right. I like it.”

“Me too. Will you stay in my room with me when we get back?”

“What?” you sputter.

“It’s kind of scary being alone with that bad guy out there and after John and I and stuff… but you make me feel safe! I’d like it if you were at least in my room with me. I think I’d finally get some sleep for once.”

Probably looking a little fucking dumb, you nod. “Yeah. I can do that.” 

“Good! And I demand that you have to tell me a story before I sleep.”

“W-wait, what?”

“No wait whats! As your princess, I order you to tell me a story before bed. Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?”

You can’t deny her, no matter how hotheaded and against it you are. “Yes, my lady.” 

“Great!” she exclaims happily. 

You continue walking with her in silence, which is hard for you to do. You watch her brightly green eyes look out over her beautiful array of flowers, the soft smile on her lips. When she glances over, knowing that you’re staring, you look away with an awkward cough. 

Then she kisses your cheek and you just about die. 

But you want to kiss her damn mouth. You stop your walking, and she does the same. 

“Karkat?”

You hold her hands and draw her near to you. God, you suck at this. Do you just blurt out the truth? Is that how this romance shit works? Fuck, you should have asked someone for advice on this before making a damn move. Oh well, no going back now. 

You open your mouth, trying to find some words. She keeps smiling at you, and you know that she knows what you’re trying to say. But your flustered expression is amusing her, you can tell, so she’s not stopping you. Stubborn princess. 

Finally, you know what to say. With a deep breath, you try again, but instead you hear a soft whistling. You’ve heard it before, and you’re filled with dread as you look over at the tall brick wall around the garden. 

You never say your words. You shove Jade to the ground and you take your duty, as any knight would, throwing yourself down on top of her to cover her body with your own. She’s yelling for a short second, wondering what the hell you’re doing, but her voice falls silent just like yours when she hears the sound of arrows piercing your back. 

“Run,” is all you get out in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye, Karkat!


	15. Chapter 15

You still don’t have a shirt on, but you’re yanking it over your chest as quickly as you can as you jog down the hallway, John right behind you.

Jake had knocked on the door right when you and John were about to get into round two of alone time. Yelling something about Karkat being hurt, about Noir being here. John didn't even protest when you threw him off, both of you trying to get dressed as fast as you could, strapping your weapons on and rushing for the door. And now here you are, trying to make your way to the healing wing of the castle, all while holding John's arm to keep him close and safe. You're always aware of things around you, but this time you're much more heightened about it. You can not let him be harmed. 

The castle is eerie and quiet, but you both know something horrible is brewing. You turn towards the healer's wing, hand tight on John's arm. He doesn't complain, simply keeps up with you. When you reach the room, there's only one bed filled, and you slow down to a stop, John bumping into you from behind. Jade is by the bed, gently stroking the patient's hair while Kanaya is nearby, working with the castle's main healers. Your feet move again, approaching the bed where Karkat is laid out on his stomach, back bare to show three different wounds. 

Jade looks like she might cry, but you ask, "What happened?"

"We went out to the gardens," she says, chest heaving once with an empty sob. 

"Jade, it's dangerous!" John snaps. 

You hold a hand up to John, giving him a look. He immediately says an apology to Jade, knowing she must be hurting.

"It's all right," Jade sighs. "But Noir got in somehow, I guess. He shot arrows, and Karkat covered me and saved me. Noir is in the castle somewhere, I don't know."

You look to Kanaya who is crushing herbs to make medicine while asking, "How is he?"

"He was wearing chain beneath his tunic," she says. "Along with his leather cape. It lessened the impact. He'll live, but he'll be in bed for a long time, and may not be able to stretch his back as much as he could before. Still, a very valiant knight if you ask me." 

Jade lets out a deep breath of relief at this, and John seems to relax a bit too. You crouch down near the cot, looking at Karkat's pale face as he lies there, healers padding at his back with cloth to soak up the blood that's slowly pumping from him. Just to be an ass, you poke his cheek. 

"Fuck off," he mumbles, showing that he is indeed very alive. But then he whispers only to you, "Is Jade all right?"

"Yeah. You did a good job, Vantas."

"Thanks... Keep 'em safe, asshole. Okay?"

"I swear." You pat his shoulder before standing again, looking at Jake. "Where do you think he is?" 

"Best not go after him," Jake replies. "I need to fetch Jane. I suggest we all stay in here, and I'll have soldiers stand outside the door and keep us safe until we have a foolproof plan on where to go from here. Sound good, yes?"

Reluctantly, you nod. "All right." 

Jake gives a small bow to Jade and John before backing out and leaving to go wake Jane and bring her here. Knowing you'll be there a while, you try to relax your tense muscles and sit on a nearby cot, resting your elbows on our knees. John sits beside you, his side pressed into yours, and you look over at him. He looks shaky, but he gives you a tiny smile and you do your best to return it. The last thing you want is for him to be scared. Then again, ever since that first assassination attempt on him, he's probably scared all hours of the day. Not even you can quell that uneasiness. 

 

You spend the night in the healer's wing. You and Jake and a few other knights take turns sleeping and keeping guard. You pressure John to rest and sleep, but he refuses and decides to take one of the watch shifts himself. You know he can fight and fend for himself, but you just want to protect him all the time. You can't help it.

During your watch shift, you study each person in the room. Some knights are sleeping on roll out beds. Jake is next to Jane, his hand protectively over her arm in slumber. Jade insisted on sleeping beside Karkat, healers telling her she probably shouldn't, but John said she could. And no one denies the king. So they both sleep soundly, Jade's forehead nestled against Karkat's messy hair since the other knight is still on his stomach to air the puncture wounds on his back. Rose and Kanaya share a nearby cot, wrapped in each others arms, the same way you slept with John last night. For once in your life, you know how they feel when they're together. 

John is asleep on the cot you're sitting on. You're on the edge, and he's lying on his side so that his body is slightly wrapped around you in a little curl. He doesn't look peaceful like he usually does. He keeps mumbling to himself and moving his arms around. At one point he reaches out and grips onto your shirt, then dozes off again. You can tell he's afraid, but he's forcing himself to be strong. Like his dad. And for his people, and for his sister. Probably for you. 

You look over your head in to the ceiling beams, wondering if Noir is there for some odd reason. Maybe he's right outside the door with a small army of followers, ready to break in and end you all. Maybe he's just down the hall. Maybe he's under the cot you're sitting on, ready to thrust a sword up and kill you in the most gruesome way possible. 

Then again, maybe he's waiting. Just waiting for you guys to give up and come out first. 

You wonder where Ari is. Being rushed here so quickly, she probably doesn't know where you are. You're not worried about her, and she's probably not worried about you. If anything, she's followed the sensation of your presence and is right outside the door that leads to the healing wing, ready to start screeching any moment she sees an enemy. 

When your watch time is up, you move over to the sleeping pile of knights and nudge Latula awake. She gives you a smile and stretches, sitting up and ready to keep a guard out. You take a cot next to John's and try to relax yourself. You know you won't sleep, but you attempt to doze, because a tired knight is not a well-coordinated knight. And you need to be the best you can be. For everyone's sake. 

 

In the morning, people are restless. Karkat is finally completely conscious and he's helped so that he can sit up. Jade is hovering him, helping him eat while he swears and complains. But no matter how angry he gets, he always does what she says. 

Soldiers are searching the castle for Noir, and all other residences and servants are being closely watched and protected. The day passes slowly with no news as to where he is exactly, but a few people have claimed seeing him lurking around. He's not attacking, but rather haunting. Servants begin calling him a ghost, avoiding hallways and individual travelling all together to avoid him. 

Karkat says later that night, "He's waiting for us."

"Hm?" 

He looks at you, his eyes showing tired bruises. "Noir. He's waiting for us. He's not going to leave until one of us comes out." 

"Does that mean we have to go out and find him first?" you ask.

"It's a big fucking castle," he says simply with a shrug. "He's an evil dick, and he's making this a game. You know what I would check if I were you though?"

"What?"

"The dungeon. We have a handful of his followers locked up down there, and not a lot of guards since they're keeping other people safe. How much you want to bet he's gotten down there and freed them? They're probably hiding in the castle with him now. They're crazy bastards. Probably going to start taking out innocent servants or other people here." 

You glance at John who's been listening to the whole thing. He gives you a nod and says, "We should check tonight."

"We?"

"Yes, we, Dave. I'm king, and I'm not going to sit around like a little, scared prince while this guy is wreaking havoc in MY castle. I'm going to help find him and I'm going to help capture him. And that's final."

Something like anger is filling you up. You don't want him hurt. You love him, you really do. But he probably doesn't want you hurt either. It's a risk for both of you, and it's a risk you're going to have to take. You want revenge for your brother's death, and now he wants revenge for his father's death. 

"Okay," you finally sigh.

 

That night, while everyone is sleeping, you wake John up so that you both can go out searching. Jake comes along too, and you all leave Latula awake to watch over everyone. 

Before you guys go though you hear a voice saying, “John? What’s going on?” 

He turns back to look at Jade who’s sitting up from her cot, rubbing her tired eyes.

John doesn’t lie. “We’re going out after Noir.”

“Well, hold on.” She huffs some air out in annoyance, standing up from her bed. Before John can protest, she pulls out a crossbow from under the cot that you had no idea was there. She gives a smirk at your different expressions, using a ribbon to tie her hair back in a bun before holding her weapon up. “Shall we then?”

“Um. Jade—” John tries.

“Oh, shush, brother.” With a grin, she joins your group at the door, then nods to you. “Well open it up, Strider!” 

With that, you cautiously open the door that leads to the hallway before slipping out with the other three behind you. 

You and Jake both have swords brandished and at the ready. John is flipping his hatchet in his hand, eyes searching and careful. Jade keeps her crossbow up, a finger on the trigger. The prison quarters are all the way on the other side of the castle, so you keep your high alert on for as long as your can. Your eyes catch every shadow and every speck of dust floating in the moonlight that streams through windows. 

You check the ceiling beams, too. You feel like he could be anywhere. His eyes are as dark as the shadows he could possibly be hiding in. 

John’s hand is on the back of your cape, holding on loosely so that he can stay close. As your group grows nearer to the dungeon entrance Jake whispers, “There’s only two ways in and out of the dungeons. What if we’re blocked when we enter?”

“We’ll only have a few of us go down then.”

“Risky.”

“Everything about this is.”

“Did you hear that?” John pipes up.

You didn’t hear anything, so you don’t reply, rather listening to Jake as he says, “Where do you think he’s more likely to attack? Outside or inside the dungeon?” 

“Inside. He has more places to corner us. And his followers are down there, they could help him.”

“Right, so we’ll have John and Jade stay outside the entrance while you and I check around for him.” 

“I don’t want to leave them alone.”

“Better idea?”

“Have them come with us. They’re plenty skilled enough to take care of themselves.”

“I don’t know,” Jake mumbles.

“What, and leave them out to fend for themselves? Wouldn’t you rather be near them?”

“Guys, I swear I heard something…” John breathes behind you.

“We’re coming with,” Jade finally snaps quietly.

“Princess—”

“No,” she says, “John and I are very tough and strong. We’ll be fine, Jake. Trust us, all right?”

“Fine,” he caves. “But stay close, please.”

“Yes sir,” she replies with a small salute. 

You all continue on, silently. You listen to the sound of all of your footsteps, and they seem off for some reason. You don’t like it. When you reach the familiar bare halls of the dungeon’s entrance, you check over your shoulder to make sure John is still with you since you don’t feel his hand on the back of your cape anymore.

He’s not there. You stop walking entirely, turning around while your eyes dart around to spot a sign of him.

“Shit!” 

Jake and Jade both turn. 

“Where is he?” Jade asks in worry. 

Jake swears under his breath. 

“Go,” you demand. “Look for Noir. I’ll go get John.”

“But Dave—”

“Go!” 

You don’t hear if they protest again. You’re already gone.

 

You're the king, and you swear you heard something! None of the others were listening to you, so you ditched the group to search for the source of the sound. It seemed like a girl's yelling, and you're afraid someone is being hurt by Noir. Even if the others are distracted elsewhere, you can easily go check, then catch up with them after. 

The hallways are quiet, and you're not so scared anymore. You don't need Dave to protect you. You're strong and skilled, and you can protect yourself. You see every shadow and sense every change in the air around you. Perhaps it will be easier to find Noir this way, too. He wants the king dead, doesn't he? Well, here you are, exposed in plain view. 

You reach the end of the hall where you thought you heard the noise, but it's empty, and you're not hearing it again. You see the side entrance to the throne room that's used by servants and open it up, cursing the loud creak it makes. Entering, you check the darkness as your boots make gentle echoes off the walls. You remember a lot of things from this room. Memories of your father addressing his people while his hand rested on your shoulder as you smiled at him and he spoke of his pride for his children. 

 

Those days are gone now. You're not your father. He was an amazing leader, and you're just a boy who doesn't even want to lead. You will, for the people, but you'll be no good at it. Now Jade, there's someone who knows what she's doing. You want to spar and go out and see the world. Without all the danger you and Dave went through on your journey, it was actually a great experience. You want to do that again. 

Behind you, there's a soft flapping noise. You turn, swinging your hatchet and holding it at the ready. There's nothing there. 

There's the sound of a blade cutting the air in half behind you, and your instincts kick into overload, causing you to bend down, spinning on your heel at the same time so that you can jump back and face the one who just attempted an attack on you. 

And there's Noir, tall and intimidating. He holds his blade down, a sickening smile growing on his face as your eyes meet. 

"Kind of stupid," he says. "Leaving the others when you know I want the king dead."

"Why?" you ask, calming your frantic heart. 

"Control. The country is too average. It needs to be expanded. It needs to conquer other lands. But your dad was too nice for that. So I'm getting ride of you people so that I can lead and make a bigger and richer kingdom. In the end, it will be better, trust me. War is just a side effect." 

"War is not peace," you say, something simple your dad used to tell you. 

"War is a price for a better peace." 

You have no words to reply. If you scream for help, he'll attack. If you do nothing, he'll attack. Do you want to capture him? He'll be put to death in the end of his sentence anyway. 

So, you'll fight him. 

His smirk grows bigger, thinking he has some type of upper hand, which he probably does. More skilled than a Strider? Yeah, you're kind of screwed. But you're sure Dave is looking for you now, so you raise your weapon and prepare yourself to stall and fight until help comes. 

"Are you going to fight me, king?" he laughs. 

Instead, you leap and strike. The metal on your hatchet's handle clangs against his sword. You throw your hands into a swing, flinging the blade of his sword off or your own weapon and throw the hammer of it into his chest. He blocks that and moves back a step before advancing towards you again. He's fast, and you struggle to follow the movement his blade makes so that you can keep each strike away. Eventually, you can't make any strikes. He's driving you back, and all you can do is block and block, praying he doesn't kill you. 

What would Dave think? If he came here and had to announce to everyone that he found the king's dead body. You don't want him to feel that pain. The pain you felt when you saw your father dead in his bed, a hole in his chest that led through his heart. You'll never let the throne fall into the hands of someone unworthy. 

You find the perfect opportunity for a parry, swinging his sword off and smashing your hammer into his hip, the only area that would pack a real punch. He staggers, but you know you didn't break bone. Although he's going to have a bitchin' bruise later, and probably some bleeding under his skin. He gives you this nod and smile, as if to say congratulations for getting a hit on him. But it's only seconds later that he's attacking you again.

The dark throne room fills with clangs and your voices of effort as the two of you move across the floor in individual battle. He catches your hand at one point, putting a good cut on your finger, but you ignore it, not even feeling the blood seeping back into your sleeve. Instead you're focused on Noir, currently raising your hatchet and blocking an over the head strike. Your back slams into a pillar. He swings for your neck and you duck, rolling away before leaping to your feet again to swing at him. He blocks, but you twist your weapon so that it unlocks with his, and you impale his hip in the same place you hit him earlier. But this time, with the axe side of your weapon. 

He only grunts and bites his lip, eyes not so entertained now. No, now he's angry. You're not scared. You summon your strength again and again to continue striking at him, driving him back farther and farther. You'll make a good hit soon, something to really wound him. His side is soaking with blood, and you're still relatively unharmed. You make another blow for his shoulder. He shoves your arm away with his sword hand, lifting a leg to kick you in the chest.

Air leaves your lungs as you hit the ground. Before you can throw yourself to your feet again, Noir's boot kicks your wrist, and your hatchet flies from your hand. Your eyes are wide, and for a second, you're positive that you're going to die. Your enemy still holds his sword, but he sits down on your waist, pinning your arms with his knees. He's chuckling, and you can feel the blood from his hip soaking down his thigh and into your own clothes. 

"You're pretty good," he compliments. 

You stare at him. You don't know what to say. Fuck, you're screwed. 

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he says, and he closes his eyes to take in a deep breath as if a wave of pleasure is running down his spine, simply from experiencing this moment. 

He reaches back, slipping a dagger out of his boot sheath, then comes back to lean in very close, the blade of the knife against your chin. You're shaking, and you hate yourself for it. "You fight with your right hand, yes?" he says. 

You look in his black eyes that blend with the darkness around you two. You see him throw the weapon down, and a blinding pain splits through your palm as he shoves the dagger through it. You scream, but it's cut off from the weight of him on your lungs. You look over, seeing the silver of the dagger disappear into your open palm, blood leaking out and puddling around your digits. 

He tugs the weapon out, and you try not to whimper. You don't even dare to try and move your hand. 

"When you fight, you're prominent on your right leg too, aren't you?" 

"No," you gasp out. 

He moves, and you close your eyes, readying yourself. It doesn't help. The pain is still sharp and loud in a way, the blade going down through your thigh, slicing muscle and anything else on its way in. You fight back tears as you shift by arching your back, anything to try and lesson the pain. Fuck, it hurts. Fuck, you're scared. The tears break free when he twists the dagger, and you finally let out that whimper.

But your bloody and wounded hand moves, almost crawling across your chest. You pull off the Strider crest that's pinned to your tunic and grip it in your fingers, the pain waving all the way up to your elbow. One of your fingers isn’t working. He probably cut the tendon. 

The crest, still ruined by the arrow, is indented with jagged metal pointing out on the backside. It's always been against the fabric of your tunic, never hurting you. 

Your body jerks as he finally takes the dagger out, coming back to lean over your face. He's close again. You can feel him breathing on your nose. The blade, shining with your blood, is pressed to your neck. He sneers, thinking he's won now, which he probably has. His chuckle is like death in your ear as the sharp dagger digs in against your skin. 

"Last words, king? I'll make sure to tell them to the head knight." 

"Dave is going to kill you," you say, raggedly but clear. 

You throw the crest as hard as you can across his face. The jagged metal cuts and slices in, catching his skin, ripping and cutting until you pass and it completes across his jaw. He's screaming and getting off of you, holding his face that's just pouring with blood. You're gasping and trying to use your good arm and leg to drag yourself back against the floor, attempting to fetch your lost weapon. 

"I'll fucking KILL YOU!" Noir screams, one hand on his eye that you probably just ripped. 

He goes for his sword. You reach for your weapon. 

"John!" 

You look over at the door, seeing Dave. You don't know if you should be scared or relieved that he's here. Noir lets out a grunting yell in frustration, sheathing his sword rather than killing you with it, then takes off for another exit. When he disappears, Dave runs to you and falls to his knees, looking at your wounds and then holding your face, his eyes so scared.

"John. You fucking idiot. Are you okay? What happen? Christ, John, Christ, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I'm okay. Shh. Dave, shut up, please."

"John..."

"I injured him. His right hip. And his right eye. Please, go after him. It's just some flesh wounds, I'm okay, please. Dave, please, kill him. For me, for you, for my dad, for Dirk, for Karkat, please. I'm okay." 

He thinks for a short moment, and his eyes are watering. Then he nods and leans in to kiss you. "I promise."

"I love you," you tell him breathlessly. 

"I'll tell you the same when I get back." 

He kisses you again, harder, then parts and pets your hair back. "Jake will be here soon. Relax."

"Okay." 

He rests a hand on your chest for a second, as if taking strength from you to use on his quest. Then he closes his eyes and stands up, ripping his blade out. Then you're left alone, bleeding on the floor, as Dave takes off to seek revenge and justice.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friggin awesome sword fights.

You’re catching glimpses of Noir. He’s fast. You’re faster, but he’s still fast. 

He’s darting down hallways, and you’re only catching the heels of his boots as he turns around corners quickly. You almost hit a wall at one point, gripping the edge of another one to spin you around a corner and then dash down the long corridor, blood pumping and heart thumping as you see the black mass far ahead that is your target. 

Any time you think you might be losing him, you grit your teeth and think of John. You think of John lying there on the throne room floor, blood pooling and streaked across parts of his body, the tears that were smeared across his face. He got hurt. He got hurt because you weren’t watching him.

You’re going to kill this man, and you swear that on your brother’s grave. 

Noir throws down a pedestal holding a small statue, trying to slow you down. The clay shatters out against the floor in front of you and you react just fast enough to jump over it, almost tripping on your fall.

The end of the hallway is a dead end, just a stain glass window and some closets that are used for the servants. But Noir isn’t slowly down, and you know what he’s thinking. His arms cover his face as he runs straight into the window, the glass breaking with a shattering trail up to its edges, shards flying amuck as Noir disappears into the darkness of the night. 

You’re careful to run over the broken shards, then stop at the open window, looking out. Noir is below, limping because of his hip and from his fall from the two-story jump. You sheath your sword and swing yourself out the window, gripping to the edge. You’ve scaled your way to John’s balcony many times, so you’re fast and unharmed as you carefully drop yourself down the wall until your feet connect with the ground again. With luck, you catch a small glimpse of Noir taking off into the trees. 

You’re behind him in seconds. 

It’s hard to follow him in the darkness of the trees since his all black clothes blend right in. But your eyes are like a cat’s, and all you need is the moonlight overhead to keep a good trail on him. He’s headed towards the cemetery clearing, not going any slower. You don’t mind, though. Your body is built for long runs like this, and you could keep going for quite a while. Noir on the other hand is injured, and you’re both sprinting at top speeds, so you know he’s not going to be in the best condition when he finally stops. 

You burst through some bushes and into the open area of the cemetery. The moon shines down, giving everything a soft glow. You can’t see Noir anywhere, but you know he’s here. You can feel it. Your footsteps are cautious, crunching grass under your boots as you make your way through the area, eyes searching back and forth. 

You spot him, sitting on the ground against someone’s grave. He’s panting some, holding his hip that’s staining his hands red. He notices you standing there, giving you a tired smile. “Glad you could catch up.” 

Your hand goes for your sword.

“Now wait a minute, wait a minute. Look, kid. Honestly, do you think your brother could have beaten me if given the chance?” 

Your hand is frozen, one finger on your sword hilt. But you answer, “Yes. He could have.” 

“He was taken by surprise,” Noir says. “From his sudden need to keep you safe. But it’s just us here. You and me. One on one. Would you like to beat me fair and square? Or perhaps I could kill you fair and square?” 

You don’t think very long. You glance at the few graves in the back of the cemetery. John’s father, John’s mother, your brother, previous royal family members. Then you look back and Noir, hand resting calmly on your sword hilt.

“You have one minute,” you finally answer. 

“Thanks.” 

You stare at him the whole time. He ignores you, tending to his wound while blood drips down his mauled face. He rips some fabric from his clothes, attempting to bandage his bad eye, then uses his belt that holds his sword as something to keep his skin together on his hip wound. After a minute passes, he stands to his feet and swings his sword hilt around his hand a few times. 

“It’ll be quite a prideful thing to say that I’ve killed two Striders,” Noir says. 

“Are you ready or not?” you hiss impatiently. 

He holds his sword out. You slide your own out, holding it at the ready. 

He gives you a malicious smile. “Whenever you are, knight.” 

This is different from any fight, and it always will be, no matter the outcome. You suck in a deep breath. Close your eyes. Open them.

Noir makes the first strike. It’s quick, short, and you block it off and take a step back. You’re testing each other’s abilities, to check weak spots and strong spots. He takes a few steps to his left, so you follow in suit so that you’re facing him again.

He attacks again first, going over your head. You swords clang together as you block him, throwing the blade downwards and bending your body to avoid the tip as it slashes towards your stomach. He throws the sword back up, trying to slice your face in half, and you have to spin your body in a complete circle to avoid it, swords clashing together again when you face him. 

He makes a swing for your neck, and you spin away behind a tall gravestone, hearing the metal of his blade bang into the rock, making sparks glow in the dim lighting. He hits the other side, right in front of your nose, and you close your eyes to avoid the sparks. 

You throw your body out on the same side after the sparks dissipate, lashing your blade at him in a blind fury. Your hilt almost flies from your hand from the force he uses to parry you. The bottoms of your blades clash, grinding together. He shoves, your back hitting the tall gravestone, your own sword coming in towards your neck and Noir leans in close to your face, framed by two shining blades. 

“Your brother begged when he died,” he mutters past grinding teeth, a grin growing that makes you want to gag. 

Your jaw clenches in effort, trying to push him back.

“Begged like a little bitch for me not to kill you.” 

With a scream, strength drives up your arms and thrusts out, shoving Noir back about six feet, stumbling for four more, and then going right on his ass. 

“You shut the fuck up about my brother!” you yell, sword tip in his direction. “This fight is between you and me, not him! Now get the fuck up and fight me. We’ll see who’s the bitch then.”

You’ve lost your façade. You don’t care how un-ironic you are, you’re pissed, you’re pissed beyond fucking belief, and you’re going to kill this man even if it kills you. 

When he gets to his feet, you’re on fire and flying at him. The old Strider speed your brother once spent months teaching you revives within your core, and Noir is having a hard time keeping up. You push him back with each loud strike, and each loud clang of your weapons is music to your ears. 

It’s like every one of the dead people in the graves under your feet are on your side. It’s like the day John made you head knight in front of his kingdom. You can feel your brother egging you on, even John’s parent’s giving you courage. 

Noir trips again on a low grave, going down on his back. You throw your sword down, ready to impale his neck, but he rolls over too quickly and swings at your legs while you’re trying to pull your blade out of the ground. You yank it loose and jump over his weapon, unable to avoid his next slice at your side, only able to try and use your knight’s cape to block it somehow. 

It slices through the leather, cutting your arm, but you block the pain. You have to, you need to focus. The blood soaking your tunic isn’t real, the pain isn’t real, the dull ache running through your arm isn’t real. 

Instead, you’re making yourself stress your new wound and attacking at Noir again once he’s on his feet. Your blades collide all over, down at your feet and over your heads, and you’re standing on top of stones to stay a few feet over him since you keep forcing him back, and you’re not stopping for anything. You leap from the rock, putting a huge force into your downward strike. The hit rings up through your bones, and you shove Noir’s blade so far back that your own sword puts a good slice in his shoulder. 

When he stumbles back, he’s panting, weapon down. You wipe some sweat from your forehead, catching your own breath. 

You want the fair fight. You want to kill him with equal strength. But he’s still badly wounded and kicking your ass. You need to step up your game. Need to kill him now, soon, before you’re too spent and don’t stand a chance. 

You wonder how John is doing. If his wounds will get infected. If he’ll die. 

Instead of waiting for you both to regain some strength, you let out a yell and slash your weapon at Noir’s back. He’s caught by surprise, but is just quick enough to block you and move back, getting into the fight again. But for some reason, he’s stronger now too. As if he’s come into a realization that gives him strength, just like you. 

You can’t force him back, but he can’t make you move either. Both of your attacks are growing tired, more sluggish. You’re both loosing blood, red dripping off of your fingers and elbow. For a second, you think you can’t do this. That no matter how hard you try, you'll never be as strong as your brother once was. 

The doubt ruins you, and he cuts your arm again, right over the previous wound. Your back hits another grave just at your knees, and Noir gives you a hard shove so that you tumble back over it. You block him as he tries to split your skull in half. He jumps on top of the gravestone, and then down, his boot landing on your right wrist. A sharp cry comes from your throat, feeling bones snap, and your eyes are wide in shock and disbelief. You’re done for. You barely ever fight left-handed. 

Noir is laughing now, breathlessly. His sword barely moves, but he makes a fast cut down your face, across your brow, right over your eye, and then on your cheek. You only flinch, feeling the blood flow. Now you have a scar like him, a scar to match the one down your lip, too. 

“Looks like you’re not a Strider. Even your brother fought better than you,” Noir says. 

You pant, weakly reaching over to grab your brother’s sword with your left hand. 

“Stop trying. Just stay still,” your enemy says. “It’ll just make it hurt more if you keep trying. I can give you a quick death.” 

“Let me up and fight me fair and square, fucker. I thought we had a deal. You already tortured me. Too scared to end me yourself with my weapon up?” 

You wipe blood from your face, grinding your teeth and holding his gaze. Your whole arm hurts. So much. Even your eyes are watering. But you think about all the torture he put you through, and as he lets you up you can feel every scar he gave you, each of them burning. 

Your left arm feels weird and awkward, but your brother made sure to make you train with it a lot. You at least have a little skill with it. You’re still breathing heavily, hunched over as Noir makes a strike at you, and you weakly block it, dropping your arm after. He laughs, coming towards, and you back away and keep trying to block his strikes, anything to prevent more wounds. 

I’m sorry, Brother. 

He cuts your arm again. You almost fall, and blood is running down over your eye. 

I’m so sorry, John.

He kicks you in the stomach, and you barely catch yourself. You’re done. You’re too weak. 

You never told John you love him

He reels his arm back, going for an ending strike. A strike that will kill you. 

Oh God, you love John so, so much… 

Your broken wrist is numb. Noir moves in, sword coming for you. Instead of attacking, you greet it. You smile, blood streaking your face, holding your gaze with Noir’s one good eye and accepting it as Noir’s sword breaks the skin of your stomach. Breaks through, into you, and pops out of your back. 

Noir’s evil eyes of pride and success change. They’re shock, and pain. Because he was so distracted with winning, he didn’t see your own sword mirror his stab. Dirk’s sword is through Noir’s middle, a blood-drenched blade sticking out of his back, the same way his is sticking out of yours. There’s mutual pain, and he grips your arm so stay standing. 

“Good… good hit,” he says. 

You rip your sword upwards, slicing all the way up to his ribs. He grunts, blood spurting from his mouth. “You too,” you complement, lost of breath. 

You let go of your sword hilt. He lets go of his. His legs wobble as he looks down at the blade stuck in him, still in disbelief. Then he falls, blood pooling and soaking into the ground beneath him. When you’re sure he’s done for, you look down at his own black-hilted sword in your middle. You watch the red soak out in a darker color than your tunic. You look at the blood on your hand. You feel it coming from your mouth, dripping off your chin and clinging down your scar like a leading trail. 

You go down on your knees. You cough, watching the red splatter on the grass. You try to rest yourself on your side, but the pain is too much, and you end up just collapsing. You stare at your hand again that’s lying palm up in the grass, studying the complex of red on your pale skin, watching the white shines in it from the moon that’s lighting you up overhead. Your vision is blurry. That sword feels sickeningly warm in you. 

Your move your gaze up. You read the words on a grave in front of you. 

Diedrich Strider. 

You smile, so tiredly. “You see that…?” you murmur. “Did that shit… for you.” 

Your chuckle is barely there. You close your eyes. Your sides feel warm with the blood flowing from you. But the rest of your skin is growing very cold. Slowly, you’re slipping, and it isn’t so bad. 

Before you’re gone, you hear a familiar screeching overhead. 

 

Death is like a very warm bath. Almost hot, but perfect. As if the temperature will always stay the exact way you need it. You float in it, carelessly and comfortably. There are no worries in death. No pain. 

You’re waiting. It’s like a dream, but you’re waiting for the part where you see the other dead people. You’re waiting for the moment you stop floating in limbo so that your brother will come greet you. He’ll tell you he’s proud and kiss your head and walk you into the afterlife with him. 

You keep dreaming. You feel like weeks have passed, yet perhaps only a few seconds. 

You want to wake up. 

 

“David!”

It doesn’t sound like your brother. 

Feelings are brought to your skin, breaking the water you were once floating in. Grabbing you, moving you. Something inside you is taken away, and there’s a painful emptiness there. It feels like your clothing is being taken off. Cold air rushes across your skin. 

You’re wrapped, warmly. Air envelopes you and you’re carried. 

You open your eyes. Are you still alive? Perhaps just a little bit. 

“Stay awake. We’ve got you.” 

Jake. Jake’s voice. He found you. Did he hear Ari’s crows?

You let go again. You don’t want to hold on. 

 

“Dave… Dave, I’m here…” 

You know that voice. It sounds far away. You reach out for it, but you can’t feel your limbs. You want to touch him, feel him, having him hold you and take you from this hell that makes no sense. 

“Come back to me… please…” 

It’s painful, but you open your eyes. 

His eyes are blue, so close. You smile, try to speak, but your throat feels clogged and you just kind of gag. He touches your cheek and you dim your eyes. As long as he’s holding you, death shouldn’t be so bad. 

Others are moving in the room, or wherever you are. 

But John, he’s right there. Right over you. Touching you, kissing your forehead, his breath on your lips, hand caressing your face.

He begs you. Begs you to hold on, to live. For him. 

You try to tell him you love him, like you promised, but liquid just pools over your lip and down your cheek. He’s pulled away from you, into blackness, and other people are hovering over you now.

You say his name, or you think you do. But he’s not there, and you’re cold, so you let go again. 

 

Pain hits. Not horrible, but fuck does it hurt. Sensations wash you, like a calm beach. Vibrations of feelings running up your fingertips and then receding. Then they move up again with more force, just a little farther, and reach your knuckles. It goes on and on like this until the sensations reach your elbows. Your wrist is sore. Your eyelids are heavy. It feels like there’s water in your ears. 

There’s something on your head. Moving. It starts at your forehead and runs back, parting your hair nicely and then doing the movement again. It’s nice, and it almost lulls you back into your dreams of floating in water forever. But you know that hand. 

Opening your eyes isn’t so hard this time. The light is bad though, and hurts a bit, driving into your pupils. Once you get used to it, you make out the shape of the one who’s caressing your scalp. 

He smiles, blue eyes glistening. 

“Hey, you,” he murmurs softly. 

Your hand shakes with effort as you move it. You reach out and touch his face. To make sure he’s real, so see if this is heaven or not. 

He’s real. You’re alive. 

A broken smile finds your face, only because you don’t hold the strength to smile any bigger than that. John smiles back, even as tears run down his cheeks, and both of his hands hold your face, thumbs rubbing your skin.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” he whispers. 

Your body aches, but John gives you strength. You part your lips and take in a deep breath. 

“I love you,” you breathe. 

He lets out a short and quiet laugh. “Me too.” And then he kisses, and you’re more positive than anything that you’re alive.


	17. Epilogue

“I forgot to give you this.” 

Jade looks over at you while your hand moves to the fingers on your left hand. You pull off your father’s ring and hold it out. Jade smiles softly, holding her hand out while you slip it onto her finger. 

“He’s really proud of you,” you tell her. 

“I know he’s proud of you too,” she replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

You look at the blue stone glimmering on her hand now, but still with a happy smile on your face. A different gem sparkles on the ring finger of her left hand. 

“Are you going to miss me?” you ask. 

She laughs, eyes crinkled in joy. Her hand pats your knee. “Of course I will, brother. What will I do without you here?”

“You have a loud and annoying husband to keep you company.” 

“Ah, you just have to know how to control him.” 

On cue, a voice asks, “You two talking about me?”

You look back over your shoulder, seeing Karkat walk down the front steps of the castle. He shakes your hand as a greeting and then sits down next to Jade, taking one of her hands into his as she replies, “Of course, I’m always talking about you. I need to complain about your annoying habits.”

He scoffs. “What fucking habits?”

“Your swearing for one thing, mister! We don’t need the baby hearing that, now do we?”

Her hand rests on her stomach that’s bulging from the life growing inside her. Karkat’s a sucker for talk of the baby. So he miserably grumbles, “Sorry.” He looks at you now, tone of voice changing. “Where’s Demon Eyes?”

“Dave is fetching the horses. Also, I think he stopped at the cemetery to say goodbye to his brother,” you reply.

“But you’ll be back by winter!” Jade exclaims happily. “Oh, you’ll have so much fun! And the baby will be here, and you can meet your little niece or nephew, and you’ll have so, so many stories to tell. I’m so excited!” 

“I know, I know.” You pat her shoulder, chuckling at her happiness. “It’s a relief I don’t have to worry about you either. As much as a crab as he is, I know Karkat will take care of you. And I know, as queen, you’ll take care of the kingdom.”

“Of course I will!” she huffs. 

The whole incident with Noir was a few years ago. Since then, you’ve made quite a few law changes, especially for limits put on female roles. With the changes, your sister was crowned Queen Jaden about a year and a half ago, and you were reduced back to the role of prince. Which you have absolutely no problem with. She at least knows what she’s doing when it comes to control and politics. 

A year ago, she married Karkat, putting him as king, although Jade is still the one in charge. Dave gave up his title as head knight, crowning the name to Jake English instead. He went from page to head knight in one day, and he’s stayed in the castle these past few years with Jane, and you’re pretty sure they’re not going anywhere. 

Dave strolls along eventually, hands in his pockets while the sun makes his red eyes shine. A few stablehands are following him with your two horses, all of your supplies strapped to their backs. You stand to greet him, but grip the handle of your cane first. Every since Noir got his hands on you, the large stab in your thigh screwed up your muscles, so your right leg is a pretty limp on you. One of your fingers is missing on your right hand too, having gotten infected, and didn’t work anyway. 

With servants and other soldiers around nearby, you can’t greet Dave with a kiss, but rather give him a little smile while he rests a hand on your arm. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You ready to go?” he asks. 

“Yeah, just saying goodbye.” 

You turn back around, seeing that Karkat is helping Jade to her feet, the weight of the baby in her trying to throw her off balance. She waddles over to you, a giant smile on her face as she squeezes you in her arms, and you squeeze her back, making sure not to squish your niece or nephew inside of her. 

“Please be safe,” she murmurs. “I love you, John.”

“I love you too, Jade, and I promise to be safe. I always am. I’ll send you letters as often as I can.” 

She kisses your cheek, and you do the same to her. She heads off to hug Dave, which you know he won’t refuse, and move to Karkat. You shake his hand, but you both end up giving each other a short embrace anyway. 

“Take care of her, brother,” you say quietly. 

“With my life,” he promises. Given what he’s done for her, you know she’s in safe hands. 

When goodbyes are made and parting tears are wiped, Dave helps you up on your horse since your leg is still bad. Then he mounts his own and you both are on your way towards the gates to leave. 

You’re both doing what you enjoy. Traveling, escaping. You’re going to see things you’ve never seen, travel to places outside of the kingdom. Learn a new language, meet new people, discover different customs. And you’re going to do it all with Dave at your side. Just like before, and just like it always will be. 

As you pass through the open gates, you look over your shoulder and wave goodbye to Jade and Karkat. You see a few others there now, some of the knights, along with Jake and Jane. They all have big smiles, and your own smile won’t leave your face. You’ve never felt so amazing. 

When you face forward again you say, “We’ll have to visit Rose and Kanaya.”

He nods. “Of course. Perhaps stop at Roxy’s.” 

“Mm-hmm. There’s a lot of places we can go.” 

“We’ll see them all,” he says, flashing you a smile, and making that statement a promise. 

 

You and Dave travel all day and sleep in an open meadow that night. The stars are dense, and the fire beside you is warm. Dave is lying flush on top of your body, his head buried in your neck as he leaves kiss after kiss. 

You pull his head up, cradling his face in your palms. He’s barely clothed, like you, and you stare in his eyes that flicker with the light of the fire, running your fingers across his smooth skin to feel all his scars. The ones on his chest from the torture he went through, the ones on his arm from his fight, and then across his face. You pull him in, kissing along the scar on his lip, and then the one that slashes across his eye. 

Before things go any further, you make sure Ari isn’t around, and that the horses are facing away. Dave chuckles at you, but you just scowl at him and kiss his lips. His hands run across your body, sending shivers through you as your tongues meet. His hips rest between your thighs and you push up into him. 

You make love with him by the firelight, and under the stars, as simply an heir and a common knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read! Lemme know what you think or whatever. c:


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